LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE, 



A TRAGEDY. 



BY IX 



AMELIE RIYES, C^N>. 

riA OF VIRGINIA," 



AUTHOR OF "THE QUICK OR THE DEAD?" "VIRGINIA OF VIRGINIA 

ETC., ETC. 



I 



H 




?ir TLA DELPHI A: 

J. 15. [.IIMMNCXVIT COMPANY. 






\^^ 



TO MY HUSBAND. 



Copyright, 1888, by J. B. Lippincott Company. 



J 



LIPPINCOTT'S 

]y[ONTHLY ]y[AGAZINE. 



SEPTEMBER, 1 8 8 ». 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 



ACT I, 



SCENE I.— ^ hall in Herod's palace. 
Unter Joseph and Sohemus, 

Joseph. It hath come, good Sohemus. 'T hath come. 

Sohemus, What, brother ? 

Jos. The king is summoned by Antonius 
Unto Laodicea concerning 

Soh. Well? 

Jos. Lower, I pray you — why, concerning, sir. 
The death of Aristobulus. 

Soh. Heaven save us I 

What saith the queen ? 

Jos. Which queen, my Sohemus? 

There are so many queens in Herod's palace, 
We needs must name them when we speak of them. 
By Moses' beard ! the wild bees have more wisdom : 
They have one queen, where Herod houses four. 
There is his mother Cypros, and his sister 
My wife Salome : they do hate most violently 
His consort Mariamne, and her mother, 
The old king's daughter, Alexandra. 

Soh. Nay, 

All this I know by demonstration, sir. 
"^Pho information that I (;rave coiuvrns 
(^ueen Mariainnc. Doth sIjo think her brotlicr 
To have been nuirdcrod ? 

Jos. 'IMuMo, sir, lies the matter. 

She doth not think so, while her mother doth. 

au'i 



306 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

They have been wrangling o'er it all the morning, 
And wrangle yet. My wife and Cypros sulk 
Within their own apartments ; and the king 
Is closeted with Antony's messenger. 

8oh, Where is Hyrcanus ? 

Jos. Sleeping, sir, I think. 

The kind old king hath but that refuge now 
When the queens quarrel. 

Soh. A most fitting refuge ! 

For when queens quarrel kings are kings in vain. 
Soft, friend ! is that not Mariamne's voice ? 

Jos. It is, — and Alexandra's. Let us go, 
Ere we be dragged into their mad dispute. [Exeurd, 

Enter Mariamne and Alexandra. 

Alex. Art thou my daughter ? 

Mar, If thou dost tell truth. 

Alex. Insolence ! Wilt thou mock me ? God of Moses ! 
Almost I think that I unknowing lie 
And that thou art a changeling ! Sure no blood 
Of mine makes blue those traitorous veins o' thine ! 
To call him brother, and yet love the king 
Who murdered him ! 

Mar. Madam, I will not think it. 

Alex. Not think it ? Will not think it I 

Mar. No, madam. 

Nor hear it said. Therefore be silent. 

Alex. Silent ! 

This unto me, thy mother ? Silent ? Oh, 
Would I were tongued like nature ! thou shouldst hear 
A hundred thousand voices utter, " Murder !" 
Why, I do tell thee I have knowledge of it 
From ten reliable sources. It was planned — 
Ay, planned from first to last. And he, thy brother, 
So young, so fair, that even thou didst show 
Old and uncomely by his side I 

Mar. Good mother. 

None loved my brother more than I did love, 
And love him : therefore go I quietly. 
Thinking how did lie live he would prefer 
That we should mourn him, not with cries and curses, 
But in the stillness of our hearts with prayer. 

Alex. Prayers for his murderer ? Oh, 'tis well I 'tis well ! 
Thou art so eaten with unnatural love 
For this thy kingly sinner, that thy heart 
Hath no unoccupied cranny where might lodge 
Love natural for him whom he hath murdered. 

Mar. I will not hear that word again. 

Alex. Not hear it ? 

Canst command deafness, that thou wilt not hear it ? 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 307 

I say that Herod hath thy brother murdered, — 
Murdered ! Ay, murdered ! murdered I Dost thou hear ? 
Or, being queen, canst thou command thy ears 
That they drink not unwelcome sounds ? 

Mar. No, madam ; 

But I can twenty hands command to take thee 
Where thy voice cannot reach my ears. 

Alex, A.Y, do it ! 

Do it, I say ! 'Twere well that Herod's wife 
Took Herod's way ; 'twere well Hyrcanus' daughter 
Should be o'er-daughtered in Hyrcanus' palace ; 
'Twere well the blood of Aristobulus 
Should not cry out, lest Herod seeking sleep 
Should be disturbed. O God of Israel, 
God of the widowed and the childless, hear ! 
To Thee I turn, to Thee shall mount my grief ; 
Thine ears shall drink this murder, and Thine arm 
Destroy the murderer. 

Mar. Madam, have done. 

Alex. Have done ! Have done, didst say ? When hell is 
finished, 
Packed full, and the gates locked against new-comers, 
I will have done. — O Aristobulus, 
This was thy sister, and is wife to him 
Who had thee murdered. 

Mar. Mother, be advised. 

My duty as thy daughter hath a limit. 

Alex. Thy duty unto Herod hath no limit. 
What I wilt thou take his hand, lie by his side. 
Be mother of his children, and the blood 
Of the high-priest thy brother red between ye ? 
I tell thee, woman, thou wilt know my pangs 
When thou hast brought forth sons for him to slay I 

Mar. Mother, here comes the king ! 'Twere best indeed 
He did not hear thee. 

Alex. Ay, now it were best ; 

But there will come a time, I tell you, girl. 
He'll curse the day that he was born with cars ! 

Mar. In truth, you'd best be silent. 

Alex. I will go ; 

Fear not but tliat I'll go. God blast these eyes 
If ever they arc willing witnesses 
Unto thy dalliance with Herod I [Exit 

Mar. Nay, 

God knows I loved my brother, and do mourn him 
With a sore heart ; but when my mother tJnis 
Doth lay his death upon the king my husband. 
She doth divide my ])ity with her hate, 
And makes my grief half Herod's. Ay, by liciivcn I 
Though he be rash, hot-natunMl, mad in wrath, 



308 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

And prone to take occasion by the throat, 
He is as little capable of murder 
As this my heart of killing the great love 
That I do bear him. Ah, he comes, and anger 
Hot at his heels ! 

Enter Hebod. 

Herod. [Not seeing Mariamne.] Herod commanded by a 
Roman turn-coat ! 
Antony summon Herod ! Antony, — 
The by-word of all nations, the last toy 
Of an Egyptian wanton ! Who that reads 
In future ages will believe it ? Oh 
That Antony had summoned me in person ! 
The Egyptian harlot had been loverless 
In less time than she takes to make a kiss. — 
Ah, Mariamne ! 

Mar. Shall I stay, my lord ? 

Her. Hath Herod ever bid thee from him ? 

Mar. No. 

But I can well imagine that this summons 
Hath left thee with a love of loneliness. 

Her. Come close. Give me thine eyes. Dost think with 
Antony 
Concerning this affair ? 

Mar. With Antony ? 

Her. Ay, — ^that thy brother's blood is on my hands. 
Thou dost not think it ? • * 

Mar. As I live, my lord, 

If I do think it, let me live no longer. 

Her. Then I care not who thinks it. Mariamne, 
I am not Herod when I am with thee. 

Mar. What then, my lord ? 

Her. Why, Mariamne's lover. 

I am no longer king, no longer soldier. 
No longer conqueror, unless in truth 
I rule thy heart. 

Mar. Thou knowest that my heart 

Is but thy throne. 

Her. Let me be king of thee. 

And God is welcome to the sway of heaven. 

Mar. Do not blaspheme. 

Her. Away ! thy veins run milk 

And make thy heart a baby. Not blaspheme ! 
Love cannot utter blasphemy, for Love 
Is his own god and king of his own heaven. 
Well, dost thou love me ? 

Mar. Thou dost know I do. 

Her. Thou dost not ! Thou dost make a pet of Duty, 
And fatten him on what should be my food. 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 309 

Love me ? Not thou ! Thou lovest the cold peace 
That^s child of frozen virtue. I have fire 
To melt the Sphinx, but not to warm the blood 
Of one chaste woman. 

Mar. Chaste I am, my lord. 

Yet for that chasteness do but better love thee. 

Her. I tell thee no ! Thou dost but use the word 
To play with, as a child its father's sword. 
Thou hast ne'er seen it scarlet with joy's death. 
Or smoking with the heart's blood of a thought. 
What ! thou lie 'wake o' nights ? Thou scorch thy brain 
With bootless wishing ? Thou eat pictured lips ? 
Thou feed regret with memory, and then rage 
Because he is not satisfied ? Thou love ? 
Nay, girl, the sun will set the sea afire 
Ere thy cool heart be set aflame with love. 
Moreover, look you, sooner shall the waves 
Of that same ocean cool the thirsty sun 
Than thy pale humor make me moderate. 

Mar. I would not have thee love me less. 

Her. Thou wouldst not ? 

Why dost thou shrink, then ? Look how thou dost pale 
And redden when I touch thee. Come, thine eyes. 
Thine arms, thy lips, still shrinking ? Israel's God ! 
Shall Herod coax his lawful wife for favors ? 
I say thou dost not love me, yea, moreover. 
That thou dost lie when thou wouldst have me think 
Thou dost not blame me for thy brother's death. 
I know thou thinkest that I had him slain. 

Mar. I do not think it, Herod. Dost thou think 
I would be here if I believed it ? 

Her. Where, 

Where wouldst thou be, then ? Not here, say'st thou ? 
Where then ? Speak, woman ! where ? 

Mar. Why, dead, maybe ; 

But not with thee. 

Her. Thou liest I Didst thou die, 

I'd have thy body brought into my chamber 
And make my bed thy sepulchre. 

Mar. Ay, Herod, 

My body, but not me. Nay, my dear lortl, 
Why waste such moments as are left in strife 
And harsh dissension ? Soon thou wilt be gone, 
And Mariarnne bnt a recollocition. 

Why dost thou doubt me? Why shonld I not love thee, 
Who art the chief of men and lovers? Nay, 
If, as thou sayest, I shrink, it is bccanse 
My love doth fear the violonco of thy love. 
Not I thyself, — not Marianinc Ilcnul. 

Hei'. liove is not blind, jus the(ireeks fable it, 



310 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

For he doth look from these fair eyes o' thine, 
Else am I Pleasure's bondman. 

Mar, Nay, not so. 

Thou'rt husband to the truest wife in Jewry. 

Her. And the least loving. 

Mar. Wilt thou wrong me still ? 

I know not how to dress out love in words. 
I can but tell thee o'er and o'er again 
The naked fact, I love thee. 

Her. Would to heaven 

I knew what loving means to thee ! 

Mar. I'll tell thee : 

It means to put myself beyond myself, 
To think of him I love in that self's stead, 
To be sleep's enemy because of him, 
Because of him to be the friend of pain, 
To have no thought, no wish, no dream, no memory, 
That is not servant to him ; to forget 
All earlier loves in his, — all hates, all wrongs ; 
Being meek to him, though proud unto all others ; 
Gentle to him, though to all others harsh ; 
To him submissive, though unto high heaven 
Something rebellious. Last, to keep my patience 
And bear his doubts, who have his children borne. 

Her. Enough, enough. Thou most magnificent 
Of queens and women, I will never doubt thee 
After to-day. 

Mar. Alas, my lord, to-morrow — 

To-morrow'U be to-day. 

Her. I will not doubt thee 

So long as I do live. 

Mar. Oh that thou wouldst not ! 

Doubt is the shaft wherewith Love wounds himself: 
Doubt me no more, and be no more unhappy. 

Hef)\ Alas ! unhappiness doth wait below 
To ride with me, seeing I must leave thee, love, 
And that for such a summons ! Jewry's throne ! 
Antony summon me ? It is as though 
The dog did whistle for his master. 

Mar. Ay, 

It is most insolent. But need'st thou go ? 
Is it imperative ? 

Hefr. More than thou knowest. 

Let us not talk of it. Tell me thou'lt miss me. 
How wilt thou spend the hours when I am gone? 

Mar. In wishing for the hour when thou'lt return. 

Her. God's heart ! how I do love thee ! — Ha ! a step I 
Cursed be any that doth interrupt us. 
Though it be mine own mother ! 

Mar. [Starting away from him.'] 'Tis thy mother. 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 311 

Love me not in her presence, lest she hate me 
The more for thy much loving. 

Enter Cypros. 

Oy^, Good my son, 

Thy horses wait for thee. 

Her, Do thou likewise. 

Seest thou not that I am occupied ? 

Oyp. A wife should urge her husband to his duty, — 
Not keep him from it. 

Her. Out ! Such musty maxims 

Affront the air. Leave me. I'll send for thee 
When I desire thee. 

Oyp, Madam, wilt thou hear this 

And say no word ? 

Her, Think'st thou that Til hear that 

And say no word ? Depart o' the instant ! 

Mar, ^^Yi 

I'll wait below. Thy mother hath some message, — 
Some special word for thee. I will be there, 
Fear not, to give thee my last love and blessing. 
Now let me leave thee, as I love thee. 

Her, Go, then. 

Mar, Why dost thou say't so harshly ? 

Her, If thou lovedst me 

Thou wouldst not be so ready to be gone. 

Mar, Doubt'st me again ? Remember what thou saidst 
A moment past, and to thy word be true. 

Her, Well, go. I will believe thee. [Exit Mar.] 

How now, mother? 
What reason shall make good of this offence 
To plead thy pardon ? 

Oyp, Love, my son. 

Her, What love 

Can pardon plead for interrupting mine? 
Thy love, say est thou ? The love of all the mothers 
Back counted unto Eve, and smelted down 
In one huge mass, would not so nmch as make 
My love a weapon. 

Oj'p, Then I'll say my pride, 

Which guards thy dignity as 'twere mine own. 

Her. My dignity ? 

Oyp, Thy honor and thy dignity. 

He)\ My dignity? My honor? Quick, give word I 
What wouldst thou touch ? 

Oyp. But that which touches tliee. 

Her. My honor ! By (he throne of God, thy honor 
Shall not survive this nionienl of thy speaking, 
If thou hast played with \\n\ 

Oyp, Nay, gocnl my son, 



312 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

Think you a woman so infirm as I 
Would take a lion-whelp for plaything ? Nay, 
Did I upon my knees approach the throne 
Of great Jehovah, I were not more serious. 

Her, What then ? Give word. Who is it ? Hath some one 
Proved treacherous in the household ? 

Oyp, Ay, — the one 

Who should above all else be faithful. 

Her. What! 

Joseph ? — my treasurer ? — thy son-in-law ? 
What hath he done ? Speak, madam : IVe no time 
To tarry information. 

Oyp, Nay, not Joseph. 

Her, Not Joseph ? Then 'tis Sohemus. By heaven ! 
Trust hath denied herself if -he be false ! 

Oyp. Neither is Sohemus the guilty one. 

Her. Who is it, then ? Delay no longer, woman. 
I'll have it, though it blast me ! Who is it ? 
. Oyp. Mayhap I had best tell thee the offence 
Ere naming the offender ? 

Her. No, I say, 

I'll hear the name. Who is it ? 

Oyp. Mariamne. 

Her. Thou liest ! Dost thou hear? Thou liest ! Stop ! 
Keep from me. Come not near me. Thou'rt my mother, 
But tempt me not with nearness, — tempt me not. 
Dost know what 'tis to anger Herod ? Answer ! 
What ! Mariamne ? Mariamne false ? 
How false ? False to my bed ? Were this proved false, 
I'd have thee burned to warm her bedchamber ! 
False? Mariamne? How? With whom? How false? 
Down on thy knees and swear it ! 

Oyp. I do swear it. 

But she is false only in thought, not deed. 

Her. In thought ? In thought ? How canst thou know her 
thought? 
This is a lie, and thou shalt die for it. 
— Without, there ! 

Oyp. Herod, hear me. Call no witness 

Unto thy shame. 

Her. My shame ? Away ! Away ! 

Oyp. Salome'll prove it. 

Her. Though great God Himself 

Came down as witness, I would not believe it I 

Oyp. My son, if thou wouldst only let me speak 

Her. Speak, then. But I do warn thee that thy life 
Hangs in the balance. One thin thread of gold 
From Mariamne's temple would outweigh it. 

Oyp. I have had certain knowledge that thy wife 
Hath sent her picture 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 313 

Her, Ah? 

Oyp. To Antony. 

Her. Woman, dost thou crave death, that thus thou tempt'st it? 
To Antony ? To Antony ? Her picture ? 
Hath sent her picture to Mark Antony, 
The Egyptian harlot's lover ? She, my wife, 
The queen of Jewry ? Mariamne ? She, 
The wife of Herod ? Oh, if thou hast lied, 
I'll have thy heart cut out and thrown straightway 
Beneath the feet of Mariamne ! 

Oyp, Nay, 

Thou sham'st thyself, my son, more than thou dost thy mother, 
To give thy wrath the rein. I have had word. 
I know the thing I speak. Salome, too. 
Doth know it. 

Her. That she hath her picture sent 

Unto Mark Antony ? 

Oyp. Ev'n so. 

Her. That she 

God ! she shall come herself and answer this. 

Oyp. Not so ; but wait until thou art arrived 
In Laodicea, and then, in off-hand manner. 
Bring up the subject to Mark Antony, 
Or Gallius, or some one of his picked friends. 
But carelessly, as though thou found'st it matter 
For mirth. 

Her. Ha ! now I see why Antony 

Hath summoned me. 

Oyp. For what, my son ? 

Her. For what? 

To take my life, that he may take my wife ! 
I see it all. It is a plot between them. 
I see it ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Oyp. Is this a time for laugliter, Herod ? 

Beseech you, quietly. At what dost laugh ? 

Her. I laugh to think how I will foil them, madam ! 
Where's Joseph ? Where is Sohemus ? 

Oyp. My sou, 

Sure thou wilt not word this to Sohemus, — 
To Joseph ? 

Her. I will word it to Beelzebub 

If it doth pleasure me I Out of my way ! 
Oh, I will play into their hands I I'll aid thoni ! 
I'll make them merry I Ha ! hu ! ha ! Oh, I'll make them 
merry I [Exity huu/himj. 

Enter Salome. 

8(d. Why laughed my brother? 

C^p. At what should he laugh ? 

A Herod laughs whore a \ncvo man wouM weep. 



314 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

Sal. Hast told him of the picture ? 

O/p. Ay. 

Sal What said he? 

Oyp. He laughed, and asked me where thy husband was. 

Sal. Asked thee where Joseph was ? 

Oyp. Ay. 

Sal. God above I 

This will ruin all. Joseph would take her part 
Against great heaven. 

Oyp. But he cannot deny 't. 

Sal. He'll find some means to soothe him. 

Oyp. Well, so be it. 

IVe done all in my power to ruin her. 

Sal. Insolent vixen ! I would give one-half 
Of my young life, could I but spend the other 
In watching her abasement. 

Oyp. Soft ! Come on. 

Herod returns this way. [Exewni, 

Enter Herod and Joseph. 

Jos. What ! Sent her picture to Mark Antony ? 
Thy mother told thee this ? Wilt thou believe it ? 

Her. Whether or not I do believe it, uncle, 
IVe a command for thee. 

Jos. In all, my liege, 

I'll prove obedient. 

Her. Thou knowest, sir. 

This summons is a dangerous one. 

Jos. My lord, 

God's kinghood watches over Israel's kings. 

Her. But Israel's God hath naught to do, good uncle, 
With Roman Antony. Look ! this command 
Is one most sacred. 

Jos. I will keep it, sire, 

As mine own soul. 

Her. Then, Joseph, if that Antony 

Doth take my life, do thou take Mariamne's ; 
For even in death I would not be without her. 

Jos. Dear my lord ■ 

Her. Say no word. Thou hast thy orders. 

Jos. But kill her, sire ? — thy queen, whom thou so lovest ? 

Her. 'Tis for that reason I would have her slain. 

Jos. But sure, my lord, this is a savage love. 

Her. As savage as the heart it quickens. Look, sir I 
Thou wilt be faithful? 

Jos. As unto my God. 

Her. [Taking off a ring.'] Thus, then, I seal thee to me. 
Wear this ring, 
And never look on it but what thou thinkest 
Of that which thou art sworn to. 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 3X5 

Jos, ni remember. 

Her, Commend me to my mother and thy wife, 
Also to Alexandra and Hyrcanus. 
My queen doth wait for me without. Farewell. 
Kemember thou art sealed to this. 

Jos. My lord, 

Death will forget ere I do. 

Her, Then farewell. [Exit, 

Jos. How he doth love her ! Yet a love more cruel 
Than hottest hate. I know not, on my soul. 
If Herod's hate or Herod's love be crueller. 
Ay, to be Herod's wife were punishment 
Enough for a she-angel grown rebellious. 
Where Lucifer was hurled into a hell. 
Sealed to his orders ? Sealed unto a murder ! 
Yet he hath ever used me kindly, — ay, 
With trust and courtesy. It is this love. 
Which makes a madman even of a king, 
That hath so spurred him. Now would unto heaven . 
Salome did not so abhor the queen ! 
For, though imperious, she is a woman 
To win the liking even of a woman. 
She send her picture to Mark Antony ! 
Why, sooner would she scar her wondrous beauty 
Than so unveil it to the eyes of lust. 
She send the fool of Cleopatra love-tokens ! 
Nay, let the sea turn traitor to the moon 
And fill some reedy pond for love ! Well, well. 
Her innocence doth wait to welcome him 
In Laodicea. [Eocil. 

Enter Alexandra and Hyrcanus. 

Alex. What, father ! thou art with this Herod too ? 
Thou think'st him guiltless ? Thou canst speak of him 
With kindness, and thy only grandson dead 
At his command ? Oh, are there mothers in heaven 
Who have so suffered upon earth ? If so, — 
If any such there be, to them I kneel, 
To tlicm cry out, to them denounce this Herod ! 

Hyr. My daughter, thou lii\st heavy grief to lK^ar. 

Alex. Help me to bear it, then I Take thou thy share, 
And help me to my vengeance I Tliou art king. 
Thou art the king of Jewry, — not this Herod, 
This low-born coiKiueror, this thief o' crowns, 
Tliis son of scorned Antipater ! Oh, I marvel 
T^hat thoii canst eat, and drink, and sleep, and wake, 
And (!all (hyself Hyrcanus, and yet bcjir it! 
Whence cjinie liis greatness? Whence his power? Yea, 
And wheniie liis crown ? The firnt two were thy gilts, 
The third lie stole to show his trratitnde I 



316 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

What, sire ! wilt thou endure 't, wilt sit so calm 

While Fortune strips thee to make rich this traitor ? 

Eise, be a king once more ; nay, be a man ! 

Appeal unto the people ; they do love thee. 

Resume thy throne, resume thy dignity, 

Denounce this Herod ! Seize this Herod ! Slay this Herod ! 

Hyr. More gently, good my daughter. I am old. 

Alex. Ay, old in patience ! Make me but thine heir, 
And 1^1 defy him. 

Hyr. Nay, I crave but peace 

As pillow for my age. My time to rule 
Is past, and Time is ruler over me. 
Believe me, thou dost somewhat wrong the man. 
He is ambitious, but hath not kept all 
Of this my kingdom. 

Alex. What ! not all ? Not all ? 

Oh, noble generosity ! Not all ? 
Thy kingdom is thy spouse, and is there beggar 
So lost that he would share with any man 
His lawful wife ? Hyrcanus, O my father. 
By thy white hairs I charge thee honor them 
And give them back their crown ! 

Hyr. Dear daughter, patience. 

Had I the wish, the means were not with me. 

Alex. Take thou thy part, and God will give thee means. 
Oh, would I were Hyrcanus, and a man ! 
Thou soon shouldst see this Herod made a slave ! 

Hyr. Hast thou forgot he is thy daughter's husband ? 

Alex. Forgotten it ! Though memory were worn 
So full of gaps 'twould not hold yesterday. 
That should be recollected ! What ! forgotten 
A Herod's blood doth mingle in the veins 
That should be clogged with it as with some poison ? 
That my grandchildren are half Herod ? — she, 
My child, their willing mother ? No, O God I 
When I forget this thing, forget Thou me ! 

Enter Cypros and Salome. 

Oyp. Madam, thou dost talk loudly for a palace. 

Alex. Madam, thou dost talk pertly for a commoner. 

Oyp. How ! Commoner ! The mother of King Herod ? 
' Alex. Common for that, if not a commoner. 

Oyp. Insolent shrew ! dost not thou fear to word me ? 

Alex. Insolent citizen ! dost not thou fear 
To word me ? 

Sal. Madam, best you have a care. 

Hyr. Ay, good my daughter, pray you guard your tongue. 
Who rouses Hate must look for hell to follow. 
Come with me. 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 317 

Alex. Nay, not I. Let these go forth, 

If they would not be worded. 

Oyp, We go forth 

At thy command ? Let God obey the devil. 
Go thou forth, shrew. 

Alex, Let God obey the devil. 

For I will not. 

Sal, Dost thou insinuate ? 

Oyp. Ay, dost thou dare ? 

Hyr. Good Cypros, good Salome, 

Good Alexandra 

Alex. A.J, call evil good ! 

It is thy trade, since thou'st called Herod generous. 

Oyp. The king shall hear of this on his return. '- 
Ay, instantly ! 

Alex. He hath not yet departed. 

Here is the lawful king of Israel [jpoints to Hyrcanus], 
And here his daughter. 

Oyp. Herod shall know of this. 

Alex. Ay, tell the shoe that the foot chafes with it. 
Do, gentle commoner ; do, citizen ; Cypros, do. 

JRyr. Oh, daughter, daughter, you do dig a pit 
And rush into it. — Please you, madam, patience. 

Oyp. Dost tell me patience ? Thou hast heard her ? Come, 
Salome : if the king be not yet gone. 
He shall have word of this. 

Sal. Ay, as I live ! 

\Exeunt Salome and Cypros. 

Hyr. Oh, woe is me, my daughter, that my life 
May not glide onward stilly to its silence. 
But thus by words be lashed into a storm 
To toss this frail old bark that bears my soul. 
Canst thou not feign a peace, though set for war ? 
Surely thou need^st not use such taunting terms 
As those with which thou hast just heaped the mother 
And sister of the king. 

Alex. The king again ? 

And thou dost call him king? More sovereignty 
There is in this my tender woman's body 
Than e'er was topped by thy lost diadem. 
Let us begone. The very air's infected 
That they have breathed. [Exeunt, 

SCENE 11.— Before the palace gates. 
Mabiamne, with her two sons, Alexander and Arisix)bulus. 

Mar. How long lio (arrlos ! Run, my boys, run (juickly, 
And sec if yo can glim[)se liiin. \ Kvcnnt hoys.^ 

This delay 
Hath signs that nmkc iiic Irarful. What if (^ypriw 



318 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

Hath poured some falsehood in his jealous ears 

To poison love ? He\s here. I'll meet him. Well, 

Enter Herod. 

At last thou'rt come, my lord. 

Alex. [Running to his mother.'\ Oh, mother, mother I 
He flung me from him, that I tripped and fell ! 

Mar. Herod, was this well done ? — Hush, hush, my boy : 
King's sons weep not for scratches. — Good my lord. 
Wilt thou not answer ? 

He7'. 'Tis a comely boy. 

Think you that Antony could father better ? 

3Iar. Mark Antony ? How should I know, my lord ? 

Her. How shouldst thou know ? That's well, that's very well. 
How shouldst thou know ? Ay, ay, there is the riddle 
The Sphinx hath failed to answer. 'Tis for that 
He turns from Egypt for its solving. 

3far. Sire, 

Thou art in merry mood for sad occasion. 
Goest thou in truth to Antony ? 

Hei'. Ay, madam. 

Wilt thou come with me ? 

Mar. No, not if I could. 

Her. Ha ? Wherefore not ? 

Mar. Because I'm weary, Herod, 

Of thy fierce humors. 

Her. Weary of my humors ? 

Weary of me ? Thou wilt confess it, then. 
Unto my face ? 

Mar. I said not I was weary 

Of thee, but of thy humors. As to that. 
When they do touch me only, I can bear them ; 
But when they touch my children, I am roused 
Above submission. See how thou'st bruised him, sir I 
And he doth look to thee as unto God, 
And loves thee above God, — ay, worships thee, — 
And thus thou usest him ! 

Her. Come to me, boy. 

Thy mother, doth she speak the trutli ? 

Alex. Ay, sire, 

My mother always speaks the truth. 

Her. So ! does she ? 

Thou lov'st me, then ? 

Alex. Yes, sire. 

Her, With all thy heart? 

Alex, With all that's not my mother's. 

Her, Dost not know 

Herod will not take part of anything? 
Well, tremble not. So ! Let me- sec thine eyes : 
What color are they ? 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 319 

Alex. Mother saith, like thine. 

Her. Ay, doth she ? Look ! how wouldst thou like a brother 
With Roman eyes ? 

Alex. What are they like, my lord ? 

Her. Like Antony's. 

Alex. Is that the Antony 

My mother talks of ? 

Her. Dost thou say so, boy ? 

Doth she talk of him ? Soft, soft, soft ! no tears ! 
This Antony thy mother talks of, — soft ! 
No tears, I tell thee, — come, what doth she say 
Of Antony ? 

Alex. That he's a bad, bad Roman, 

Who hath sent here to take thee from us. 

Her. Hold ! 

Look at me. Thou hast honest eyes. 

Mar. [^Coming forward.'] Ay, Herod, 

And he is honest. Wilt thou doubt thy son. 
As well as her who mothered him ? — Sweet boy, 
Come close to me. — Why should he not be honest? 
He is Hyrcanus' grandson, and the son 
Of Mariamne. 

Her. Not of Herod? 

Mar. Now 

Shame on thee, doubting king ! I will bear all 
But that which slurs my honor. Darest thou stand, 
Look in my eyes, and hint me wanton ? No, 
Thou dost not dare to do it. — Come, my sons, 
These are no words to fill your innocent ears : 
Bid God-speed to the king your father. 

Alex. Sire, 

God speed thee on thy journey. 

Aris. God be with thee. 

Mar. Farewell, my lord. God be with thee indeed, 
To mend thy doubting heart. [ExU vntk her sons. 

Her. Stay, Mariamne I 

No, I'll not call her back to melt resolve 
With love's quick fire. I will be firm in this. 
And yet was guilt ne'er forehead ed like that. 
The child, too, said that she named Antony 
But to abuse him. Yet that is no proof, — 
He may have been instructed so to speak. 
I will ])rocced unto the truth in person. 
How if it were some trick? My motlier hates her, — 
Salome too. But then tlioy dared not trick me ; 
Moreover, they do know that proof awaits me 
W heather of their dishonesty or truth. 
]5e that as 't may, if slie hath sent her picture 
Unto Mark Antony, l)y Israers God, 
I Ml send her to his wanton as a slave I 
Vol. XLll.— 21 



320 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

ACT II. 

SCENE I. — Laodioea. A room in Antony's house. 
Enter Antony and Herod. 

Ant Nay, say no more about it. I'm content 
Unto the full with what thou'st told me. Tut ! 
I might have known 'twas woman's babble. 

Her, Ay, 

These women that are kin to those we love ! 
Methinks that Satan was a married man, 
And his wife's mother egged him to rebel, 
Seeing that heaven would not hold them both. 

Ant. Well said ! Well said ! Thou hast the trick o' humor. 
Thou canst trim old facts with invention, sir. 
Until they seem not worn. Thou'lt be well missed 
In Laodicea. But look you ; it is said 
Arabia doth not give willing tribute. 
How's that? 

Her, Thou'st tapped a cedar, Antony, 

And look for it to give forth balsam. 

Ant. So? 

Arabia's king is niggardly ? 

Her, Good sooth, 

As covetous of his gold as Earth herself. 
And tighter holds it. 

Ant. So ? I have heard as much 

From Cleopatra. What's the tribute ? Know you ? 

Her. It was two hundred talents, but of late 
It has been less, — considerably less. 

Ant. Less ? That's not well, — not well. I like not that. 
I have no time to war against Arabia. 
Two hundred talents ? That rich country's veins 
Could spare ten hundred drops o' gold, nor beat 
One pulse-stroke weaker. If there must be war 

Her, Well? 

Ant, If there must be war, I'll look to thee 

To manage it. 

Her. So be it. \^Adde,'\ He shrinks from murder 

Of one alone, but to secure his death 
Would order thousands unto theirs. 

Ant. [Muttering.'] 'Tis pity. 

'Tis pity. I'd not have it so. [Rousing.'] What say you ? 

Her, Nothing. 

Ant. If there be war, I look to thee. 

Remember. 

Her, I'll remember. 

Ant. Hold a little. 

There are some papers, — those I told thee of. 
Wait for me here. [EooiJt Antony. 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 321 

Her. Thou Eoman hypocrite ! 

Wait for thee? Ay, I'll wait, I'll wait. Fear not 
But that I'll wait. Thou cunning plot-maker ! 
Make war against Arabia ? Thou'dst make war 
Against red hell, if Satan's wife were comely. 
And yet this man doth take my hand and clasp me 
His closest friend, speak of the things that irk him, 
Quote Caesar freely, whistle Caesar's Rome 
Into my Jewish ears, make light or serious 
As the mood takes him ; and doth brood withal 
O'er schemes to have me butchered. Israel's God, 
If such is friendship, be not Thou my friend ! 
Here comes the Roman lover o' Jews' wives. 



JEMer Antoky. 

Ant Here are the papers : please you look at them : 
They can be sealed again. Note this, and this. 
And this particularly. Is't not strange ? 
Here, too, is something strikes me inconsistent, 
And here again. Dost thou return to-day ? 
I do not willing spare thee. 

Her, And I go 

Less willingly for thy unwillingness. 
When shall I look to welcome thee, my lord, 
In Jewry? 

Ant, Why, ere very long, I trust. 

If all works as I'd have it. 

Her, \_Adde.l^ Ay, ay, ay 

If all works as thou'dst have it. Verily 
I do believe thee. 

Ant, Whatsay'st? 

Her, That these errors 

Are strange indeed. Who drew up these reports ? 

Ant, Athenion. 

Her. With his own hand ? 

Ant. I think so. 

Hc:i\ Best thou madest certain. Then thou'lt come to Jewry, 
If all doth work as thou wouldst liave it, sir ? 

Ant, Indeed, most joyously. 

Her, Be sure o' that. 

Ant. What, Herod? 

Her, That thou'It come most joyously. 

Ant, Why, I am sure of it. 

H&r, Sure? 

Aid. What's the matter ? 

Thou makest a mountain of this mole-hill. 

H(^r. Ay, 

But 'twere a task as diHicult, Antony, 
To make a mole-hill of a mountain. 



322 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

Ant Well, 

Thou'rt in strange mood to-day. And thou wilt go ? 

Her, Ay, Antony. 

Ard, I do suspect thee, friend 

Her, Of what? 

Ant. Of being somewhat in my plight. 

There is one only difference. 

Her, And that? 

Ant. Thou callest thy Cleopatra Mariamne. 

Her. Antony! 

Ant. What ! So moved at the mere name ? 

Her, Not at the name, but at the way of naming : 
Name not the wife of Herod and thy wanton 
In the same breath. 

Ant, How7 sir ! 

Her, Yes, I repeat it, 

And do but ask what I myself fulfil. 
Thou hast ne'er heard me name Octavia 
In such connection. 

Ant, By the gods ! thy pride 

Would make Jove's throne its footstool ! Have a care ! 
Dost brave me? 

Her. Thou mayst call it as thou wilt. 

The fact remains, I will not have my queen 
Come near thy wanton, even in a sentence. 

Ant. Gods, sir ! 

Her. I know I'm in thy power. Yet, Eoman, 

I've done but what in my place thou hadst done. 

Ant. Well — well — well — well. She's fair enough, in truth, 
To make a lover even of a Herod. 

Her. How dost thou know she's fair ? By hearsay ? 

Ant. Ay, 

By hearsay and by demonstration both. 
I have her picture. 

Her. \_Calmly and with tightened lips."] Ah ! thou hast her 
picture ? 

Ant. And well done, too. One Procrius, a Greek, 
Hath limned it. I have oft bethought me, sir, 
That thou shouldst have it. 

Her. \_More calmly and more rigid.'] Hast thou so, indeed ? 

Ant. Ay, from the hour I knew it had been sent 
By Alexandra, I did purpose to 

Her. By Alexandra ! God ! by Alexandra ? 
Didst thou say Alexandra ? 

Ant. Ay. What then ? 

Her. Did Alexandra send it to thee ? Speak I 
Hyrcanus' daughter, Alexandra ? 

Ant. Ay. 

What, man ! art going mad ? — Without, there ! ho I 
Wine I Water I Anything to drink I Wine, there I 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 323 

Her, [AddeJ] (And I have doubted her, have thought hfer 
false, 
Bid her a cold farewell.) I cry you grace. 
Give me to drink some water. No, not wine ! 
Water, I tell you ! ^Tis the air, I think. 
The closeness of the day. Notice me not. 
The picture, thou dost say, was sent to thee 
By Alexandra ? 

Ant Ay, by Alexandra. 

-Her. Dost thou know, Antony, I lied just now ? 

Ard. Lied? 

Her, Lied ! I gave thee, friend, to understand 

That my wife's mother stood not in my love. 

Ant And so thou didst. 

Her. Well, hear me, Antony : 

Before the one great God of Israel, 
I dote upon her ! 

Ant Well, of all thy moods 

This is the strangest. 

Her. Yet the welcomest ; 

Look you, — the picture, — can I see it now ? 

Ant I will go bring it to thee. 

Her. Vm thy debtor. [Exit Antony. 

Oh, Mariamne, Mariamne, Mariamne ! 
Thou shalt set foot upon my neck for this. 
Loll on my throne, and take my diadem 
To girdle thee. 

And I did bid her cold farewell, and thus 
Am one kiss short for all eternity ! 
And the boy, too, — I hurt him. A brave boy, 
So proud he would not weep, although I gripped him 
To hurt one tougher by a good ten years. 
A valiant boy. And she so fierce for him ; 
Ay, ay, she hurt me well for hurting him. 
Oh, I'll invent some higher name than prince 
To give her sons ! 

Good Joseph ! — he believed in her. Now, truth, 
I am half envious of Joseph's goodness. 
But he shall not outdo me after this : 
Herod the king shall as a warning take 
Herod the husband. Yet without a cause 
I was not jealous. No, by Jewry's throne, 

I was not jealous without cause I My niothor 

Ay, but she did not lie in everything. 

No, Alexandra, Alexandra, she 

Hyrcanus' daughter I Ha I there's mischief here, 
Though of a (IKferent temper. She to send 
The picture of my wife to Autony? 
To Antouy? Ah, let ine (hiuk on this I 
This hath, in truth, a twang of tretichery, 



324 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

False, scheming Jezebel ! Yet 1^11 forgive her, 
That 'twas herself, not Mariamne, — yea, 
Not Mariamne ! But she must to prison, — 
To prison, for a time at least. 

Enter Antony. 

Ant Here is the picture : it is something rough 
In certain parts ; a taking roughness, though. 

Her, Ay, ay, 'tis like, 'tis very like : her eyes 
Unto an eyelash, yet not to an eyelash : 
There's margin here for the imagination 
To make perfection out of, almost. Why, 
I like it for its lack o' sleekness, man. 
'Tis only God who can afford to finish ! 
'Tis like her, but as sunKght's like the sun. 
The color's here, but not the radiance. 
I thank thee, Antony. This thought o' thine 
Shall father many deeds. As to Arabia, 
I will do all that thou couldst there desire : 
Fear not the issue. Now give me the papers ; 
Thou hast not sealed them, though. Here is a lamp ; 
Despatch, I pray thee, for I must begone ; 
Or shall I seal them ? 

Ant. Oh, I'll do it for thee. 

Gaze on thy pictured queen in peace meantime. 
As to the tribute from Arabia, 
'Tis in thy hands. All such auxiliaries 
As thou didst purpose for my army's strengthening, 
Take in this cause if needs be so. These papers 
Are now as tight as is my trust in thee. 
And, like that trust, stamped with my seal. Commend me 
Unto thy queen, thy mother, and thy household ; 
Farewell, if thou wilt go. 

Her. I must, my friend. 

In everything depend on me. 

Ant. I will. 

Her. Then, once more thanking thee as to this matter, 
The likeness of my queen, farewell. 

Ant. Farewell. [Exit Herod. 

'Twas well imagined. Ay, 'twill serve a turn. 
Fate hath by this woven his very heart-strings 
Into the pattern of my destiny. 
He will remember I returned that picture, 
Where, otherwise, myself would be forgot. 
Ah, well, so goes it. Yet, as I'm a Roman, 
'Twere almost worth my while to turn a Jew 
Could I by so becoming fall in love 
With mine own lawful spouse. Yet, after all, 
The Jews' God is a bachelor, therefore wise 
In that respect above our Homan Jove : 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 325 

There's nothing quicker rouses envious spleen 

Than to behold a man who's deep in love 

With his own wife ! [^Exii, 

SCENE 11.—^ room in Hebod's palace, 
Bater Joseph and Salome. 

Jos. Ay, madam, I repeat it, — I repeat it ; 
I know thou art my wife, and I repeat it. 
God wot, I know that thou'rt my lawful wife, 
And yet I do repeat it. Heaven witness 
That I remember Cypros is thy mother, 
Thyself my wife Salome, yet again 
I do repeat it : ye are both unjust. 
Unwise, unwomanly, in this your hatred 
Of noble Mariamne. 

^al. Sir, be warned : 

Thou hadst best guard thy tongue. 

Jos. Do thou, then, wife, 

Set me example. 

Bal. This to me ?— to me ? 

Jos. This unto any one who hates the queen. 
I say 'twas base in thee to run to Herod 
With this tale of the picture. Ay, moreover. 
That I will ne'er believe she knew 'twas sent. 
Till Raphael be commissioned so to say I 

8al. Sir, I do tell thee 

Jos. Madam, I tell thee 

I will not rest till this be set at rights. 
She send her picture to Mark Antony I 
She would as soon have Satan for a lover. 
Ay, that I'll swear to. She to send her picture ! 
Salome, in God's name — all praise be His I — 
Wherefore, in God's name, as I said, do ye. 
Your mother and yourself, so hate the queen ? 

^al. Wherefore ? Didst say wherefore ? Thou dost observe 
her. 
Her insolence, her arrogance, her scorn, 
Her sideward smiles, her upward eyebrows, ay, 
Her hints and innuendoes, and then ask 
Wlierefore? Away ! Thou art so blind with doting 
Upon this virtuous queen, thou canst not see 
When she insults thy wife. 

Jos. I can well see 

When that my wife insults me. Come, be careful : 
No more o' that. 

Sal. No more of what ? 

Jos. Of that 

I shame to mention, — how much more to hour I 
Woman, soc^ that thou dost not drop again 
Into such wicked hinting. Nay, no word : 



326 HEROD AND MARIAMNE, 

I will not hear it. God protect the queen 

From thy tongue's venom ! In the mean time, I, 

Being His servant, will do what I can 

To keep her happy. Nay, I tell thee, peace. 

I will not hear so much as one foul word 

Against Queen Mariamne ! 

Sal, WiUnot? 

Jos, Ay, 

Will not. 

Sal. Thou wilt not hear me speak ? Thou ? — thou ? 

Thou wilt not hear me speak ? — Salome ? — me ? — 
Thy wife, and Herod's sister? 

Jos. Herod's self 

Should not to me insult his queen. 

Sal. Out, slave ! 

Jos. Slave, maybe, but unchained. Therefore be still. 
Here comes the queen herself. 

Sal. [^Muttering.'] A crowned baggage. 

Miter Mariamne and her two sons. 

Mar. Let us sit here, sweet boys. — Madam, good-morrow. 
Fair greeting to thee, friend. — Come, Alexander, 
Bring me thy bow, I'll string it. 

Sal. Pray you, madam, 

Whence came that bow ? 

Mai\ It was my husband's, madam. 

When that he was a lad. 

Sal. He will ill take it 

That thou hast fingered o'er his trappings thus. 

liar. Ah ! dost thou think so ? — Not so hard, my boy ; 
Set thy knee to it steadily. Now, now. 
There goes the string ! Now see if thou canst bend it. 

Alex. Almost. 'Tis stiff. Whew ! but it stung my wrist ! 
There. Is that better ? 

Jos. Good, good, good, my lad ! 

Thy father will be boy again to watch thee. 
Well done ! Well done ! 

Alex. What sayest thou, mother ? 

3far. Why, 

Well done, indeed, my warrior. 

Sal. Have care ; 

I know thy father's humor, boy. Beware 
Lest thy fine weapon turn into a rod 
For thy chastisement. 

Alex. Madam, dost thou think 

A son of Herod would be beaten ? 

Sal. Ay, 

If Herod snuffed occasion. Ay, young sir, 
I do, most surely. 

Mar. Then thou art mistaken. 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 327 

He is not only Herod's son, but mine. 
Think you I'd see him beaten ? 

Sal Whatwouldstdo? 

Close thine eyes, girl ? 

Mar, No, but have closed in death 

The eyes of any who did try it. 

Sal, Ay, 

Were it the king himself. I can believe thee. 

Mar. Thou talkest idly, madam, and beyond 
Thy mark o' freedom. — Come here, pretty one. 

[To Aristobulus.] 
Wouldst thou shoot, too ? 

Aris, Ajy mother, that I would. 

But that's too big for me. 

Mar, I'll have one cut, then. 

Fit for thy dainty grasp. How's that, my heart ? 

Aris. Oh, well, well, well ! I will shoot too. Oh, ay ! 
Brother ! oh, brother, look, I'm going to shoot. 
Better than thee ! I'm going to kill a tiger 
And sleep upon his hide. And then another ; 
That shall be mother's. Then another yet 
For Uncle Joseph. Uncle, wouldst thou like it ? 
Thou wilt not mind the hole my arrow makes. 
Wilt thou ? Look, uncle, big as this. Look, mother, 
As big as this ! 

Mar. Sweet chatterer, come here. 

Thou'rt treading on thy aunt Salome's robe. 

Sal. What's that ? Let him tread on. His mother, truth, 
Sets foot upon my neck : then why not he 
Upon my garments? Go on, boy, go on. 

Alex. Why, what's the matter, aunt ? What has he done ? 

Sal. What is the matter ? Out, thou babbling brat ! 
I'll answer thee. \_Ckiffs him.'] 

Mar. [Seizing her wrist and swinging her to her knees by a 
sudden movement] 

Ask thou his pardon, tliere. 
Do as I bid thee. It were best for thee. 
Look in my eyes, and thou wilt know 'twere best 
For thee and thine that thou obeyed'st me ! (iuiok, 
His pardon. 

Sal. [As if cowed.] Well, I ask it, tlien. 

Mar. More, more. 

Say, " Alexander, sou of IVfarianme, 
I crave thy pardon with all humbleness." 
Say it I 

Sal. I say it. 

Mar, Woman, speak tliose woixls ! 

Speak I 

Sal. Alexander, son of Marianine, 
I crave thy pardon. 



328 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

Mar, With all humbleness. 

SaL Well, with all humbleness. 

Mar, Now crave thou mine. 

Jos, Nay, madam. 

Mar, Crave thou mine ! 

Sal. [Sneeringly.'] Ay, Joseph, plead ! 

Mar. Crave thou my pardon, woman ! 

Sal, Well, I crave it. \_Bising to her feet.'] 

But better for thee hadst thou cursed high heaven 
Than dared Salome's vengeance ! \_Exii, 

Jos. Good madam, if it had been possible, 
I would thou hadst left this undone. 

Mar, Good uncle, 

In that she is thy wife, with all my heart 
I wish so too. But it was written so. 
Think on't no more. Thou hast my trust and love 
In everything save in thy spouse, good uncle. 
I cannot feign. Therein is my chief fault — 
Or virtue, as you will. — Look, little one. 
Go with thine uncle : he will see thy bow 
Doth suit thee. 

Aris, Wilt thou truly, uncle dear ? 

Jos. Ay, that I will. Come on. — Sweet niece, I thank thee. 

[Exit Aristobulus and Joseph. 

Alex. Mother, I loved thee when thou jflungest her down ! 
How strong thou art ! Oh, thou art very queen 
Without thy diadem, as night is night 
Without the stars. Sweet mother ! 

Mar. Ah, my boy, 

Thou dost not know 

Alex. What, mother? 

Mar. [Absently.'] What it is 

To be a Herod's wife. 

Alex, How dost thou mean ? 

Mar, [As if to herself] 
Doubted at every turn, — insulted, braved 
By those who most should cherish me, — my children 
Subject to slights which I could better bear. 
My mother scorned, her father set at naught. 
And I not even queen over his moods. 

Alex. What art thou saying, mother ? Please remember 
That which thou saidst thou'dst tell me. 

Mar, What, dear? 

Alex, Why, 

How thou first saVst my father! How he threw 
The javelin ! how rode the Arab horse ! 
Oh, thou dost know. Wilt thou not tell me now ? 

Mar. How I first saw thy father ? 

Alex. Ay. Please do it. 

Mar, It is so long ago. 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 329 

Alex, Oh, mother, please ! 

Don't say thou hast forgotten it, sweet mother ! 
Think ! 

Mar, God in heaven ! it is the one last thing 
That I would do. Nay, never heed me, child ; 
I do remember what thou'dst have. So, then. 
Sit there. How like, how like thine eyes are, sweet, 
Unto thy father's ! Well, I'll on. Let's see : 
How was it, now ? His very trick o' lip. 
Well, well, I'll tell thee. 'Twas a summer day. 
And I a maid of Spring. Canst thou think, boy. 
Of me as being some sweet little maid 
Such as thou'lt some day woo and marry ? 

Alex, ^^y> 

I will not wed her unless she be in truth 
Thy very copy as thou art this instant. 

Mar. Oh, darling ! thy old mother ? 

Alex. Old! Thou old? 

But tell the story, for thou shalt not tease me. 

Mar, 'Twas Nisan, then, a day o' cloud and shine, 
Yet all the clouds condensed would scarce have dyed 
One o' thy swarthy locks. There was a festival. 
And there were promised many feats of strength 
And skill in various ways, especially 
Casting the javelin. Thou knowest, sweet, 
Samaria was my home, the lovely ^* vale 
Of many waters," — so they call it. Oh 
To see the great pomegranate-trees in bloom 
Once more — but once ! It was in very truth 
As though the heart's blood of the year had stained them. 
I'm coming to thy father I I was then 
Affianced to him only, ne'er had seen 
Even his pictured face, and greatly feared 
To think of how he might appear. At last, 
When almost we were tired o' watching youths 
Draw bows or brandish spears, he came. His horse, 
A coal-black Arab, trapped in beaten gold, 
As though dark Night had borrowed of bright Day, 
Chafed at the reins and reared. At tliat the king, 
Herod, thy father, dashed his mighty fist 
Against the brute's strained crest, then, loosing rein, 
Poised lithcly, with his javelin ak)ft, 
Keen on the changing air. Onward they swooped, 
Straight on, with singing liair and hoofs a-thunder. 
Like to a wind made visible. 

Alex. On, mother I 

Toll me the rest 1 Please, mother I mother I mother I 
Don't stop to tliink of it ! Tell me the re.stl 

Mar, He east the javelin. The seveixxl air 
Shrieked with its wound, and, lo 1 the last shot arrow 



330 HEROD AND MARIAMNE, 

That marked the target quivered, cleft in twain 
By that sure-hurlM blade. 

Alex, He cleft the arrow ? — 

The shaft itself? Oh, mother, dost thou think 
I could so cast*a javelin some day ? 
Not now, but when I^m bigger ? Dost thou think it ? 

Mar, I know not if thou couldst excel withal 
To such extent as did thy father, dear : 
He is world-honored for such feats. But, truth, 
I think thou couldst in part approach his skill. 
Thou hast his very swing o' carriage. 

Alex, Well, 

What next ? What did he then ? 

Mar. Leaped from his horse 

And caught me in his arms. 

Enter Herod. 

Her. As he doth now ! 

What ! trembling ? Oh, my queen ! my wife ! my life ! 
Tremble no more ! Give me thy lips ! Look up ! 
Nay, sweet, look down. [Kneeling,'] Here is my rightful place ; 
Here let me kneel forever ! 

Mar, Nay, my lord. 

Thy place is something higher, for ^tis here. 

[Touching her heai't.l 

Her, Then lift me to it, for I dare not rise 
Of my sole self unto such happiness. 

Mar. [Lifting him.] Come, then. 

Her, Oh, God ! to love like this is pain. 

Give me thy shoulder for a moment, sweet. 
All of me that's not Herod is in mine eyes. 

Mar. And all that's Herod or not Herod, love, 
Is in my heart. 

Her. [Taking her face into his hands."] In nothing changed : 
the same 
Deep, maddening eyes ; lips curled for love ; rich locks 
That tempt the fingers. Ay, the same, the same. 
Even to that flutter in thy throat when touched, 
As though thy heart were some wild, winged thing 
That struggled to be free. Wild heart, I'll kiss thee 
For being wild. [Kisses her throat,] 

Mar. Ah, Herod ! ah, thy corselet I — 

It cuts my arm. 

Her. Let my lips plead its pardon. 

[Kissing her shoulder.] God's heart, girl, thou art twenty times 

more sweet 
Than all thy dear Samaria's sun-kissed fruits. 
Thy lips I Once more thy lips ! — thy lips ! — thy lips ! 

Mar. Nay, Herod I Herod ! thou forgett'st the boy. 
This is not seemly. 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 33I 

Her, Ho ! Not seemly, say'st thou ? 

Herod and seemly harnessed, were as well 
As were a tiger lashed unto a dove. 

Mar, Yet doves, the Greeks do tell us, draw Love's chariot. 

Her, The chariot of Love's queen. The king of love 
Guides heel-winged tigers with a sword of flame. 
Talk not to me of doves : it is as though 
One little, milk-white cloud did near the blaze 
Of some red sunset. Heaven is in my heart 
Because of thee, — but heaven on fire. Look, boy ; 
Come to my knee. Thou art a well-knit lad :• 
Wouldst learn to cast the javelin ? 

Alex. Oh, father ! 

Her. That's well, — that's well. Ay, call me father, boy : 
I like it better than more stately terms 
From thy young lips. — He hath thy brows, my queen. 

Mar, Nay, thine — unto a hair. 

Her, Why, heart, look here : 

For th' dark original of this proud arch 
I first did love thee. Mine ? Thou knowest well 
Those were ne'er copied from my shaggy front. — 
Look thou, to-morrow ere the sun be high 
I'll teach thee how to cast a javelin. 

Alex. Sire ! 

Her. Nay, father, or no javelin. 

Alex. Dear father ! 

Her, Thou rogue! that knack o' sweetness, without ques- 
tion. 
Was from thy mother gotten. Well, come kiss me. 
Now off. 

Alex. Ay, father. Mother dear, farewell I [Exit. 

Her, Now to my lips ! 

Mar, My lord. 

Her, Nay, do not speak. 

Mar, I cannot breathe. 

Her, Ah, peace ! 

Mar, Nay, let me breathe. 

Her. Presently, by and by. Why, struggle not. 
I would not hurt thee. 

Mar. But thou dost, — thou dost. 

Thou art so strong thou dost not know. 

Her. Well, there. 

Come lean against mo. liOok ! what thinkest thou 
That I have here ? [ ToxiMmj his breast.'] 

Mar, I cannot think. 

Her, But try, 

To please me. Come. 

Mar, A loc^k of hair ? 

Her, Ay, tliat^ 

Since first I loved thee ; but theixj's soraetliing else. 



332 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

Mar. Indeed I cannot think what 'tis. 

Her. \_Taking out pidure.'] Why, here, — 

What dost thou think o' this ? 

Mar. Why, 'tis myself ! 

When didst thou have it done ? And where ? By whom ? 
Am I as fair as that ? 

Her. Is moonlight fair 

As starlight ? 

Mar. N^y^ ^7 ^yes are not so large. 

Her. Larger. 

Mar. ' Oh, Herod, no ! And see what lips ! 

Her. I'd rather feel them. Nay, shrink not, shrink not : 
Thou dost not know how 't chafes me when thou shrinkest. 

Mar. I will not, then. Who painted it ? 

Her. A Greek 

Named Procrius. Here, take it in thy hands. 
'Tis well done, is it not ? [ J-sicZe.] She is as true 
To me as I was false to her. I'd swear 
By every goddess in the Boman heaven 
That she ne'er eyed that picture in her life. 
Ay, 'twas all Alexandra. God of Israel ! 
Would to Thy mercy that, like Adam's wife. 
All others could be mothered by a rib ! 

Mar. \_Coming towards him.'] It is most wondrous. 

In truth, my love, it gladdens me at heart 
That thou'st so good a copy of myself. 
To help remembrance when thou'rt absent. 

Her. Nay, 

Memory needs no aid from Mariamne. 
But how thinkest thou I got this picture ? 

Mar. Truth, 

It is beyond me. 

Her. Whose dost think it was 

Ere it was mine ? 

Mar. I cannot dream. 

Her. Why, then 

Mark Antony's. 

Mar. Mark Antony's ! Thou jestest. 

Her. I do not jest. Thy mother sent this picture 
Unto Mark Antony. 

Mar. No ! no ! Why should she ? 

Her. I know not ; but for no good, — that I know. 

Mar. What wilt thou do ? 

Hei\ Thou knowest as well as I 

That for offence so grave imprisonment 
Were a light punishment. 

Mar. Ah, for my sake 

Forgive her. Thou dost know how rash she is, — 
How hot o' temper. 'Twas a crime, indeed. 
To bare my face unto the Roman's eyes ; 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 333 

But I, who bare my very soul to thee, 

Do crave her pardon. Look, my lord, I kneel. 

Her. No, by my soul ! thou never shalt bend knee 
To any save thy God. She was forgiven 
At thy first asking. 

Mar, Now thou'rt king indeed, — 

Now Herod at his best. 

Her, Come, prove it, then, 

Upon my lips. — Who comes ? 

Enter Joseph and Aristobulus. 

Aris. [^Brandishing a little bow and arrow. '] Oh, mother, 
look ! look ! look ! [Seeing the hing.'\ Oh, uncle ! 

Her. Soft ! 

Come here, boy. Why, thou art most bravely weaponed. 
Canst bend that monstrous bow? — Good uncle, greeting. 

Jos. I knew not thou wert back, my lord, indeed. 
When didst thou come ? 

Her. Why, some few moments gone. 

Uncle, I would have word with thee. — My love. 
Farewell until this interview be o'er. 
Wait for me in our chamber. 

Mar. • Ay, my lord. 

Come, little archer. [Exit with Aristobulus. 

Her. Good uncle, thou wert right in all thou saidst : 
The mother of my queen, and not herself, 
Did send her picture to Mark Antony. 

Jos. Praise be to God for this ! And, good my lord, 
Let it be long ere thou again dost doubt her. 

Her. Is never long enough ? 

Jos. Ay, if thou'rt serious. 

But close thine ears against the slanders, sire, 
My wife and thine own mother are most sure 
Again to bring thee. 

Her. Death's not deafer, sir, 

Than I will be. 

Jos. Nor let looks stir thee. 

Her. None, 

As I am king. 

Jos. As thou art man ! 

Her. Ay, then, 

As I am man. Not one, not one. Rest, uncle ; 
I will be staunch. But look you, sir : what object 
Dost think Ifyrcaiuis' daughter had in this? 

Jos. Nay, 1 know not. Some woman's muddle, surely. 
Thou'lt not stir up dissension when 'tis napping, 
For such small cumse? 

Her, Small cause, say you ? Small cause ! 

Just heaven I it hath never seemed so great 
As by this ^'snuilF' o' thine. Small cause, that she, 



334 HEROD AND MARJAMNE. 

My queen, hath been unveiled unto the eyes 
That are a wanton's daily mirrors ! Oh, 
Small cause had God to punish Lucifer, 
If that my cause against this shrew be small ! 

Jos. What wilt thou, then ? 

Her, I would have 'prisoned her. 

But that my queen did plead against it, sir. — 
Unto less heart-near matters : Antony 
Has given Coelosyria to his jade. 

Jos. That's better for Judea than for Antony. 
Sawest Cleopatra while in Laodicea? 

Her, Ay. How she hates me ! 

Jos. Thou wert safer, nephew, 

In Cleopatra's hate than in her love. 

Her, Ay, but she works against me. 

Enter Cypros. 

Greeting, mother. 
How dost thou? 

Oyp, Well in body^ but in mind 

Something less easy. Sir, I crave your leave. 
[ J.si(ie.] Bid him go forth. I have some news for thee. 

Her, Is it so musty now it will not keep ? 

Gyp. It doth concern Hyrcanus' daughter, Herod. 
If thou'st no care to hear it, I will go. 

Her, Nay, stay. Of Alexandra ? I will hear it. — 
Uncle, thy leave. 

Jos, Nephew, thy promise. 

Her, Ay, 

I will remember. 

Jos, Heaven aid thee, then ! [Exit, 

Her, Mother, thou art not in my love just now. 
How camest thou to state so falsely, madam, 
This matter of the picture ? 

Oyj>, Good my son, 

How dost thou mean ? 

Her, Thou knewest all the while 
Hyrcanus' daughter sent it, — not my wife. 

Oyjp, Nay, Herod, as I live. But how dost know 
'Twas only Alexandra ? 

Her. That's no matter. 

Suffice it that I know. What's this thou saidst 
Thou hadst to tell me ? 

Oyp. While that thou wast gone, 

Reports did reach us thou wert slain by Antony ; 
Whereon this woman strove to coax thy uncle 
That he would set forth straightway from Judea 
And seek protection with the Roman legion. 

Her, She did? 

Oyp, Ay, by my soul ! 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 335 

jHer. Thou hast once lied : 

How shall I know if once thou speakest truth ? 

Oyp, Here comes Salome : ask her. 

Her, Hath Salome 

The writ of truth about her ? [Eater Salome.] 

Look you, sister, 
What of this flying to the Roman ensigns ? 

Sal. True. 

Her, Wilt thou swear it ? 

Sal, Ay. 

Her, God knows ye women 

Would swear hell heaven, to win the devil over. 
How shall I know ? 

Oyp, Ask Joseph. 

Sal, Nay, not Joseph. 

Her. Why not? 

Sal, Because he would swear wet were dry, 

To win one smile from thy chaste queen. 

Her. What meanest thou ? 

Sal. But what I said. 

Her, Why saidst thou " my chaste queen" ? 

Sal, Is she not chaste ? 

Her, Softly ! No insolence ! 

Why should I not ask Joseph ? 

Sal. Ask him, then : 

^Tis naught to me. 

Her, But 'tis not naught to me ! 

Woman, give word. Why dost thou simper ? Speak ! 
What dost thou smirk at ? 

Sal, Why, at mine own thoughts. 

Her. Are they so merry ? — Mother, dost thou know 
Why thus she Josephs me ? 

Oyp. 'Tis not unnatural 
A wife should feel some jealousy when 

Her, Ay, 

When what ? This ^ what's' the thing. Sister, have care, — 
Have care : I am more Mariamne's husband 
Than I'm thy brother. 

Sal. Think'st thou that is news? 

Her, Then answer. 

Sal. I have answereil. 

Her. Trifle not. 

What dost thou hint at ? 

Sal. Ilinting's not my way. 

Thank God, I liave the courage to be honest. 

Her. Then demonstrate it. What didst mean just now, 
By saying that Joseph would swear wot were dry, 
To win a smile from Mariamne ? 
^ Sal. Why, 

Tliat ho would do it. There's no mystery tliere. 
Vol. XLU.— 22 



336 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

Her. Pernicious vixen ! I'd not husband thee 
Though on our wedding-day I were to pose 
God of the hundredth heaven ! What dost thou mean, 
Thou smirking obstinacy ? Speak, I say I 
If that thou dost not word it o' th' instant, 
I'll give thy vaunted courage work to do. 

Sal. If thou wouldst hear thy shame told as a tale, 
Pardon me if I would not so hear mine. 

Her. My shame and thine ? My shame ? Have care ! have 
care! 
Herod is Herod, though ten times a brother. 
My shame? My shame? My shame? Ay, let thy blood 
Forswear thy poisonous lips, as that of thee 
In my hot veins forswears thy poisonous self. 
Mother, begone ! we'll have this out alone. 
No word ! Depart ! [Eodt Cypros.] 

Now, woman. 

Sal. Why dost glare ? 

'Tis not my fault. 

Her. Fault ? Fault ? Who spoke of fault ? 

Just now 'twas shame. Well, shame's a fault, that's true. 
And faults are shameful when found out. Come, hasten. 
Madam, this matter. 

Sal, [Pulling out a bracelet. 1 Hast thou e'er seen this ? 

Her. Ah, 'tis the bracelet I gave Mariamne 
At our betrothal. Jade, how didst thou get it? 
She wears it ever on her left arm. 

Sal. Nay, 

Did wear, — not wears it. 

Her. Girl, where didst thou find it ? 

Sal. In Joseph's closet. 

Her. May that lie thrice damn thee ! 

What ! thou wouldst have me think oh, devilish harpy ! — 

Have I e'er called thee sister ? Look, Salome, 
If thou hast jested, I'll forgive thee. 

Sal. Nay, 

If I had jested, I would not forgive 
Myself. 

Her. Oh, devil ! — devil ! 

Sal. Why, just powers ! 

Let me begone ere that I am quite murdered 
For doing what's my duty. 

Her. Move no step 

Until I wring that poisonous mind o' thine 
Of its last drop. Tliou say'st thou found'st this bracelet 
Within thy husband's closet? 

Sal. Ay. 

Her. Then thou 

Didst steal and put it there ! 

Sal. Brother ! 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 337 

Her, I say, 

If thou didst find the bracelet of my wife 
In Joseph's closet, thou didst steal it thence 
And put it there for reasons of thine own ! 

Sal, Herod! 

Her. Ay, that's the name of Jewry's king. 

Doth any dare to brave him who doth bear it ? 
Look you, if this be false, — nay, it is false, — 
Why, mark you, then, if when I show this bracelet 
Unto my queen, with word of thy foul slander, — 
If, when I tell her this, she pleads not for thee, 
To have thee pardoned, dear as is this toy 
For all the memories that it doth curing, 
I'll have it beaten to an arrow-head, 
And send it through thy false and shrivelled heart 
With mine own hand ! [Exit, 

Sal, Accursed be ye both ! 



ACT III. 



SCENE I.— ^ room in Herod's palace. 
Miter MARIAMNE and Alexandra. 

Mar, Mother, I do but ask thee be advised. 

Alex, Thou dost but ask me be advised ? Indeed ! 
So thou dost only ask me be advised ? 
Well, am I not a docile, patient mother ? — 
A gentle, good, obedient, humble queen ? 
Thou ask'st me be advised ! Now, let a babe 
Advise its mother how to suckle it, — 
The stars grow independent, and turn back 
Upon their courses to instruct high God 
How they should move, — earth rail at heaven's method,- 
The entire and changeless system change about. 
Until at last the nations rule their kings. 
Not kings their nations ! • Thou advise me ! 

Mar. Madam, 

Thou must acknowledge that it was not seemly 
To send my picture to the Roman general. 
What purpose hadst thou ? 

Alex, What is that to thoc. 

Since 'twas unseemly? Thou wouklst not seek, surely, 
To learn unsc^omly niattors? 

Mar. Good my mother. 

Wilt thou not see that all my care in this 
Hatli been to place tluu* beyond scorn or danger? 
Thou ran'st a risk almost as terrible 
Ah when thou soughtest to convey tliyself 



338 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

And Aristobulus to Cleopatra 
Concealed in perforated coffins. 

Alex, Kisk ! 

What risk? Of what? 

Mar, Of being imprisoned. 

Alex. ^ I?-^ 

I be imprisoned ? — I ? — Hyrcanus' daughter ? — 
The sometime queen of this usurping king ? 

Mar, Mother, have care. 

Alex. He to imprison me ? 

He — Herod — to imprison Alexandra ? 
Out ! I will not believe it. 

Mar. Best thou didst. 

Alex. What ! thou wouldst suffer it ? 

Mar. To be a queen 

Doth mean to suffer many things, good mother ; 
And who should know this better than thyself? 

Alex. A.jj who indeed, O God ! 

Mar. Then for my sake 

Be warned in time. For there may come an hour 
When even Mariamne '11 plead in vain. 

Alex. What wouldst thou ? 

Mar. Be but careful. Make no plans 

To follow secret ways. Thou knowest well 
Thou'rt watched at every turn. 

Alex. Ay, well I kngw it. 

But what's more exquisite than by thy skill 
To make the watcher watch in vain, — outwit him, — 
Baffle him utterly ? 

Mar. But recollect 

How thou hast ever failed unto this moment. 

Alex. We must thrice fail to be successful once. 
I have once more to fail. 

Mar. Believe me, mother. 

That " once" might never live to breed success. 
Here comes the king. I'll ask thee now to go : 
'Twere best he did not now see us together. 

Alex. I'll think of what thou'st said, but will not promise. 
No promises. [^Exit, 

Mar, She is my body's mother. 

And yet she seems as daughter to my soul. 
Oh, would to God that she would be advised ! 
There's something ominous to me of late 
In very silence, and my urgent heart 
Cries, " Herod ! Herod ! Herod !" till the night 
Is vibrant with his name. Would unto God 
I knew to what extent he loveth me, 
Or could but sift his passion through his love 
And note how much the one outweighs the other 1 
Joseph doth hold unto the theory 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 339 

That he doth cherish me above ambition ; 
And yet I doubt : — men so oft love the pleasure 
Above the pleasure-giver. Love lives on trifles, 
And we can lose him wholly with an eye, 
A broken tooth, an arm, our tresses' gold. 
How if some day this face which now he worships 
Were by some grievous accident scarred o'er. 
Made hideous ? How if mine eyes were blurred 
By some fierce, sudden blight ? — my figure mangled ? 
How if — oh, God ! — I were a leper ? Then — 
Would he then love me ? Nay, a leprous soul 
Were easier borne of men than that one lock 

Enter Hebod. 

Should lose its beauty ! Yet, withal, how Joseph 
Doth dwell upon his constancy ! Good Joseph ! 
His wife's the only evil thing about him. 
Good, faithful Joseph ! 

Her, Madam, I am come. 

Is Joseph here ? 

Mar. No. Dost thou wish for him ? 

I'll have him called. 

HefT. Nay, but I heard his name ; 

I'm sure I heard his name. 

Mar. Why, so thou didst : 

I spoke of him. 

HefT. Spoke of him ? What of him ? 

Do thy thoughts oft run Joseph-wards ? 

Mar. Indeed they do, my lord. 

Her. Ha ! 

Mar. I am certain, sir, 

He is the faithfullest of those about thee. 

Her. The faithfullest? 

Mar. Ay. Why dost thou so stare ? 

Her, Know'st thou this bracelet ? 

Mar. Oh ! where didst thou find it ? 

Thank God 'tis found I How strange that thou shouldst find it ! 

Her. Strange? 

Mar. Ay. What then ? 

Her. Wherefore is it so strange 

That I should find thy bracelet? 

Mar. 'Twas my tliought, — 

My woman's way o' conjuring coincidence 
Out of a leaf- fall. I did say 'twas strange 
Because it is the bracelet thou didst give me 
At our betrothal. Aristobulus 
Did slip it from mine arm this very morn 
While playing, and I have not seen it since, 
Though every servant liuth been errandcd 
Throughout the palace to make search for it. 



340 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

Her, Where is the boy ? 

Mar. With Joseph. 

Her, Is there none 

Save Joseph to amuse him ? 

Mar, Nay, thine uncle 

Doth love our boys. 

Her, And our boys' mother, — yes. 

Mar. I think he doth. He is the only one 
Of all thy household who is civil to me. 

Her, Insinuations? 

Mar, Dost insinuate 

That I insinuate ? 

Her, Why not? thou art — 

A woman. 

Mar, And a queen. 

Her, By heaven, thou lookest it ! 

See that thou act it, too. Have the boy called. 

Mar, Who? — ^Aristobulus ? 

Her, Ay. 

Mar, Wherefore, sir? 

Her, Have the boy called, I say. 

Mar, I pray you, Herod, 

If that he hath offended, — if (more like) 
Thy sister and thy mother have borne tales 
Concerning him 

Her, Away ! 

Mar, If thou'st been urged 

To harshly deal with him, do not, I pray thee. 

Her, Peace! 

Mar, He's so young, so frail, so timorous. 

So fearfiil of thee. 

Her, It were well his mother 

Took lesson by that last. Call him, I say. 

Mar, And I, that I will not, unless thyself 
Dost tell me why thou wishest him. 

Her, Thou wilt not? 

— Without, there ! [Enter Servant,'] 

Tell the young prince Aristobulus 
To wait on me immediately. Hasten ! 

Mar, If 'tis thy purpose to ungently use him. 
Myself shall stand between ye I 

JSnier Aristobulus. 

Come, my heart ; 
None shall entreat thee. 

Aris. Is he angry with me ? 

Mar, I know not ; but he shall not hurt thee. 
Her, Boy, 

When didst thou have this bracelet ? 
Mar, Ah ! 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 34I 

Aris, This morning. — 

Oh, mother, who did find it ? I^m so glad ! 
Did the king find it, mother ? 

Mar, I know not. 

Her, Where didst thou have it last ? 

Aris, I don't remember. 

Her, Thou dost not? 

Aris. No. I think 

Her. Well, out with it! 

What dost thou think? 

Aris. I think my uncle Joseph 

Took us into his chamber, and I think — 
I think — I think 

Her, Gods ! what dost stammer at ? 

I will not eat thee. 

Mar, Thou dost eye him so. 

Her. What, then ! shall I not look at mine own son ? 
What is it that thou thinkest, boy ? 

Aris. 'Twas there 

I dropped it. 

Her. Come to me. 

Aris. Oh, mother ! 

Her. Come. 

Mar. Nay, go, my boy. — If thou dost hurt him, Herod, 
From that same moment I'm no more thy wife ! 

Her. So be it, then. — Come to me, boy. Now up, — 
Up for a kiss. Here, take this chain with thee : 
'Twill make as bright a plaything as the bracelet. 
Now, dost thou love me ? 

Aris. I — I — think so. Oh ! 

I mean, I do. Don't hurt me. Put me down. 

Her. Go, then. 

Aris. May I go, mother ? 

Mar. Ay. 

Exit Aristobulus. 

Her. My queen, 

Come, let me new-betroth thee. 

Mar. First, my lord, 

Tell me the meaning of this most strange scene 
Through which we have just gone. 

Her, For wliat wouldst know? 

Mar, For that I am thy wife and Jewry's qucon. 
Thinkest thou, my lord, that thou ciuist doubt me — ay. 
In any way — and that I'll meekly bear it? 
I tell thee thou hadst bettor doubt thyself 
Ten thousand times than Mariamne once 1 

Her. I do not doubt thoc. 

Mar. Thou \vx^i doubted mo; 

And once to doubt is ever to be doubtful. 
Thinkest thou I did not mark the hidden meaning 



342 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

With which thou didst enweigh the boy's least word, — 
How thou didst question and cross-question him, 
Frighten, soothe, frown, and smile all in an instant ? 
Why didst thou summon him — my child, my last-born — 
To answer what his mother had replied to ? 
Ay, wherefore didst thou that ? And as thou entered'st. 
Why didst thou eye me when I spoke of Joseph ? 
There's more in all of this than Joseph only. 
Can it be Joseph's wife ? 

Her, How if it were ? 

Mar, Then farewell happiness, farewell peace, hope. 
Life, joy, content, — ay, Herod, fare thee well ! 

Her. How dost thou mean ? 

Mar, If Herod once hath listened 

Unto Salome, Death may wed with Life 
Ere Mariamne be again a queen ! 

Her, Why, what dost mean ? 

Mar, That thy trust was my throne, 

Thy love my sceptre, and thy faith my crown. 
Shall I be queen and yet despoiled of these ? — 
A beggar of small favors in the kingdom 
Where I was wont to reign ? Not I ! — O God ! 
I'd rather be Thy humblest slave, than queen 
Unto a king whom a Salome rules ! 

Her, Nay, Mariamne. 

Mar. Am I Mariamne, 

And yet my child made witness 'gainst me ? Mariamne, 
And yet Salome heard before me ? Mariamne, 
And yet by Herod doubted ? 

Her, By my kingdom, 

I do not doubt thee. 

Mar, Then why brought'st my child 

To prove me ? Yea, if that the flesh were false 
From whence he sprung, why should he be more true ? 
How didst thou know 'twere not a lesson taught. 
That guiltiness might look like innocence ? 
Who is there in the breadth of Israel 
To prove that Mariamne is not false ? 

Her, Herself ! He who could meet thine eyes and doubt thee 
Would prove himself the very core of falseness ! 

Mar. He who Salome trusts doubts Mariamne. 
Thou canst not both believe in Jove and Jah : 
Honor to one doth mean to one dishonor, — 
For one a throne, for one a sepulchre. 

Her, Madam, I swear to thee. 

Mar, Swear unto God : 

His throne is sure. 

Her, No surer than thine own. 

Mar, Then heaven's kingdom rocks. 

Her, Nay, be assured. 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 343 

Mar, Of what ? Of my abasement ? Would to God 
I were as sure of ultimate content ! 

HefT, Nay, Mariamne, hear me. Let me speak. 
I never was suspicious without cause. 

Mcur, And such a cause ! 

Her, Why, there was reason in't. 

Mar, One grain of reason leavens a huge mass 
Of inconsistency. Of what, my lord. 
Am I suspected ? 

Her. I was told to-day 

This bracelet had been found in Joseph's closet. 

Mar, What if it had ? What then ? In Joseph's closet ? 
What if it had been found in Joseph's closet ? 

Her, Why, sure thou seest where conclusion points ? 

Mar, He points into a blackness where mine eyes 
Are sensible of naught but blackness. 

Her. • Why, 

Thou knowest how mine uncle worships thee, 
Is ever ready to defend or serve thee. 
Doth in the least thing find thee love- worthy. 

Mar, And so he doth. What then ? What hath my bracelet 
To do with this? 

Her, Why, 'tis self-evident. 

Thou hast ne'er parted from it till to-day, — 
Not once since I first clasped it on thee. Well, 
Then, when I hear — dost mark me ? — when I hear 
It has been found in Joseph's closet, — ay. 
When I hear where 'twas found, was it but natural 

That I should think — should find it strange — should wonder 

Oh, thou must understand what I would say. 
It is all past : let us not think on it, — 
Let us not think. 

Mar. I will be queen to Death 

When I have ceased to think upon it. What ! 
Thou didst suspect me with thine uncle ? Me ? 
Thy queen, thy wife, the mother of thy sons ? 
Thou hast suspected me, and with thine uncle ? 
— Now, God in heaven, commemorate this day 
By pai-doning Satan, for Thou may est withal 
Unjustly have condemned him ! 

Her, Hear me, madam. 

Mar, Hear thee, to have mine ears more blasted ? Nay, 
I^t deafness rescue me from further words 
That thou mayst utter I 

Her, Madam. 

Mar, Out I Away ! 

I will not hear thee 1 False with Joseph ? False ? — 
False with his treasurer? Nay, God, with any? 
Why, I must laugh at this ! The world must laugh 1 



344 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

Oh, God ! Oh, God ! I am indeed unqueened ! 
My heart and sceptre both at once are broken ! 

Her. Weep not. 

Mar. I do not weep ! Tears, such as women 

Do shed for lesser causes, I would scorn 
To offer this my sorrow. The red drops 
Shed from my riven heart, no man may witness. 
Though he were ten times tyrant, ten times king, 
Ten times a Herod ! 

Her, Mariamne. 

Mar, Ay, 

Murder my name, now thou hast slain my honor ! 
Cry, " Mariamne,'^ till the west doth ring 
An echo to the east, north unto south. 
The earth to heaven, until the very stars 
Cease in their song, to shriek, " Adulteress !" 

Her, Why, thou art mad ! 

Mar, Oh, would to God I were \ — 

That this my reason had not joy survived. 
To view my misery as a thing apart ! 
— O God ! Shame is chief torturer in hell : 
Kill me outright, and be more merciful 
Than hadst Thou spared more lives than I have griefs ! 

Her, Wilt thou not listen ? 

Mar, Shall I tutor God? 

Since He is deaf to me, I unto thee 
Will be deaf also ! 

Her, Mariamne, stay. 

Mar, She was the queen of Jewry, and was slain 
By one of Herod's words. I am the queen 
Of my sole self; therefore I will begone. \^Exit, 

Her, How she defies me ! Yet I swear I love her 
The more for her defiance. She were one 
To sit beside Jah on His throne and nod 
At quits with Juno. She hath scourged me bravely. 
Yet from each wound my heart's blood leaped with love. 
To kiss the hand that smote. And she was proud. 
Held herself loftily, and veiled her eyes 
Beneath her haughty lids, as who should say, 
" Thine halves can view sufficiently this Herod." 
Israel's God ! her mind is virgin yet : 
I've never wedded save her body. She 
To word me thus, — she, — Mariamne, — she, — 
The conquered daughter of a conquered king ? 
And yet I love her for 't. Yea, were I God, 
And able to fill space with Mariamne, 
Compact the stars into her diadem. 
Darken heaven to give her light, and of eternity 
Make one embrace, I were an-hungered still ! 

[Enter Servant, 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 345 

Serv, A messenger, my lord, from Antony. 

Her, From Antony ? Command him hither. [Exit Servant. 

So! 
Shall public warfare chafe the ill-shod heel 
Of private strife ? Can I not rest a moment ? — 

[Enter Messenger, 
Papers from Antony ? What can they treat of? [Opens them.'] 
What's this ? What's this, I say ? Knew'st thou of this ? 
Lysanius of Syria put to death ! 
Leagued with the Parthians ! His rule given o'er — 
Given to the Queen of Egypt, — Cleopatra ! 
Know you the contents of these papers, sir ? 

Mess. In part, my lord. 

Her, All this since I have left ! 

And is Lysanius dead ? 

Mess. Even so, my liege. 

Her, Lysanius dead, and Cleopatra queen 
Of his domain ? God ! let me on — on — on ! 
What ! More donations ? The Nabalacan kingdom, — 
The sea-coast — what I Palestine's sea-coast — all — 
From Eleutherus even unto Egypt, 
With only Tyre and Sidon, sir, excepted ? 
This greedy wanton would storm heaven itself 
Were Babel's tower standing ! What ! More yet ? 
Jericho, too ? — Without, there, ho ! [Enter Attendant. 

Thou, sir. 

Bid Sohemus and Saramallas hither 

Stay, let them wait within my audience-chamber. 

[Exit Attendant. 
While I fold these, sir, know'st thou if the queen 
Went into Syria with Antony ? 

Mess, She did, my lord. 

Her, Ah ! Say you ? There's the germ 

Whence sprung this crooked tree o' knowledge. Come. 
Let's to my audience-chamber. [Exeunt, 

SCENE 11.— Enter Alexandra and Hyrcanus. 

Alex. But why not write to Malchus ? Is not Malchus 
Thy friend ? Hath he not proved himself thy friend ? 
Now, as Arabia's governor and lord, 
Is he not placed to take the part of friend 
In verity towards us ? Thou must know it I — 
Ask that he send some horsemen to escort us 
In safety from Jerusalem's boundaries. 
What's in a letter? Thou couldst find sonic ten, 
Ay, twelve, to bear 't in secret. There's Dositheiis I 
I'm sure Dositheus loves thee. 

Hyr, So he doth ; 

Ay, 80 he dotli, — he doth, — I'm sure he dotli. 



346 HEROD AND MARIAMNE, 

But as for writing unto Malchus, — why, 
It is too much to ask of friendship. 

Alex. What? 

What is too much ? That he do send us horsemen 
To aid us in our flight ? CalFst thou that much ? 
Why, 'twere an office he would claim with gladness. 
As for the multitude, thou knowest well 
They are with thee, — not Herod. 

Hyr. Daughter, daughter, 

Why wilt thou not let peace sleep peacefully ? 
Quiet doth seem to me a boon, good daughter. 
That kings might place before their diadems. 
I am too old to plan new orders. 

Alex, So ? 

Then let me do 't. The future race of kings 
That yet may spring to power from Mariamne 
Will never find that fault, believe me, father, 
Among the virtues of their sovereignty. 
Come, here is pen ; come, here is parchment. Write, — 
Write, — write. 

Hyr, To Malchus ? That he send us horsemen ? 

Alex, Ay, escort to the lake Asphaltites. 
Write, sire, as thou wast king and wilt be ! Write. 

Hyr, Soft, daughter, soft ! How would it be if Herod 
Should by some means discover I had written ? 
Would it not anger him ? Hast pondered that ? 

Alex, Oh, wilt thou pause to think of Herod's anger. 
When thine should make thee pitiless ? Plunge thy pen 
Into my veins, that my resolved blood 
May of itself form the important words 
And save thy dubious hand the trouble ! 

Hyr, Nay? 

Nay, nay ; be not so violent, good daughter. 
Canst thou not give me time to ponder this ? 
If Herod finds thou hadst a part in it. 
How then ? How then ? 

Alex, Let then take care of then. 

This now is in our charge. Oh, father, write. 
Think on thy murdered grandson, — think on him. 
The boy thou loved'st, so fair, so pure, so holy, 
So all that Herod is not ! Think on him. 
And on his fate, on what our fates may be. 
And write to Malchus. See, here is the parchment 
Close to thy hand, and wax made ready. See — 
I'll write it for thee, — That he'll send straightway 
A troop of horsemen to escort us hence. 
That's all. Look ! thou hast but to sign thy name 
And seal it with thy seal : unto Dositheus 
I will myself commit it privately. 
As for Dositheus, thou knowest, father, 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 347 

He could not prove unfaithful. He knows well 
What 'tis to lose kinspeople by this means, — 
This Herod-plague. Ay, ay, Dositheus 
Will be as true to thee as thine own arm. 
Fear not. Wilt thou not sign ? 

Hyr. How if I sign — 

My death-warrant ? 

Alex. Think not such woman thoughts : 

They do unsex thee. Naught can come of it 
But good to thee and thine. 

Hyr. Sometimes death's good 

When life is evil. 

Alex. Oh, delay no longer ! 

Sign, as thou lovest me, — as I love thee, — 
As God doth love us both I Sign, — sign, Hyrcanus. 

Hyr. Thou'rt sure thou hast not asked but that ? 

Alex. But what? 

Hyr. That he send horsemen to escort us ? 

Alex. Ay, 

As I'm thy daughter, that is all. Now sign. 
Good father, sweet, sweet father, sign the letter. 
Wilt thou not sign to please me, father ? Look ! 
I have not had a pleasure since the day 
On which we lost our Aristobulus. 
It will so please me. 

Hyr. Well 

Alex. Oh, do it ! do it I 

Some one may come. There is no time. 

Hyr. Thou'rt sure 

Thou'st only asked for escort ? 

Alex. Sure, — sure, — sure. 

Now sign it, father, — dearest father. 

Hyr. Well, 
If thou art sure thou'st asked no more than that 

Alex. I swear it by my dead boy's murdered body ! 

Hyr. Soft ! not so shrilly, — not so shrilly, daughter. 
There [signs letter^ will that pleasure thee ? 

Alex. Ay, God alone 

Doth know how much ! Oh, dear my father, trust me, 
When we arc safe beyond these listening walls, 
I'll tell thee how I thank thee I Some one comes. 

Enter Mariamne, slowly. 
Sweet father, say no word to her aa yet : 
She nmst not know of this till by and by. 
Why, gods I how pale she is ! — Daughter, good-morrow. 
What ails thee? 

Mar. Nothing. Mine own spirit. Aii ! 

How farest thon, dear ITynnims? 

Hyr, Why, my sweet one, 



348 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

As old men fare who have no occupation 
Save thinking on what occupied them once. 

Mar, 'Tis a sad way to live. 

Hyr. Think you ? 

Mar. Ay, sire; 

But to live any way is sad. 

Alex, How now ? 

What sour experience gave that maxim birth ? 
What hath gone wrong ? 

Mar, My destiny. 

Alex. Why, girl, 

I never saw thee in such plight before. 

Mar, Nor I myself. 

Hyr, Dost thou feel ill, my star ? — 

But then how rustily old wits do work ! 
Stars are exempt from maladies and ailments, 
As thou shouldst be, my blossom. 

Mar. Thou'rt so good, 

So gentle ever, I do love thee. Here, 
Give me thy hand. Doth not my forehead burn ? 

Hyr. Ay, ay, it doth. — What's well for fever, daughter ? 
The child hath fever. 

Mar, There's no cure for this. 

Alex. Now, by my faith, thou hast a fever, girl 1 
This comes o' too much roof-walking by night. 
Thou knowest I warned thee not to stay so late. 
But then I have a drink of balsam-flowers 
That savors more of magic and strange arts 
Than doth beseem a Jewish beverage. 
I'll give thee some to drink. 

Mar, 'Twill do no good. 

Alex. How dost thou say ? I tell thee that it will. 
Come, be not obstinate. 

Hyr. Ay, go, my lamb. 

Go, take thy mother's brew. Go, pretty one : 
She makes rare brews. There's one she hath of late, — 
'Twill stop an aching back, — 'tis wonderful. 

Mar. Hast one will stop an aching heart — for aye ? 

Enter Joseph. 
Jos. [To Hyr.] My lord, the king would speak with thee. 



Hyr. Well, Joseph- 

Be docile, pretty one : thy mother's brews 
Are brewed with strange discretion. Best you hearkened. 
Wilt hearken, daughter? — Yes, I come, good Joseph. — 
Fair health attend thee, fair one. Take the brew. [Exit. 

Jos. Sweet niece, how pale thou art ! — How is't, in truth ? 
Is she ill, madam ? 

Alex. Why, I know not, sir. 

Mayhap she'll not acknowledge it. She looks so. 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 349 

Mar. Nay, I am well enough, good uncle. — Mother, 
Reach me my needlework. 

Alex. What ! wilt thou work ? 

Best that thou took'st the air awhile. 

Jos. Ay, madam. 

Wilt thou not walk? 

Mar. Good uncle, let me rest. 

Alex^ How? peevish? 

Mar. Possibly. Despair, good mother, 

Dons strange disguises. — Seemed I peevish, uncle ? 
I^m sorry for it. 

Jos. Tut ! tut ! tut ! ^tis nothing. 

I mean, thou wert not peevish. 

Mar. ^^7) I w^s. 

Alex. Ay, ay, thou wert indeed. What hath gone wrong ? 
Haply thy Herod hath his favors stinted,— 
Doth not so hotly love thee ? 

Jos. Madam, madam. 

The king's love doth not wane with lesser fires, 
But, like the sun, burns steadily, always, 
Though sometimes by a cloud 'tis darkened. 

Alex. Pshaw ! 

It twinkles like a star ; is no more fixed 
Than torch-reflections in a restless sea ; 
Waneth and waxeth ever with the moon ; 
Needeth, like any lamp, to be refilled 
With flattery's oil ; flares with the wind o' passion. 
Like any earth-born flame. 

Jos. Wilt thou, sweet niece, 

Hear this of thy fond lord, and yet be silent ? 

Mar. Whom is he fond of? 

Jos. Madam, canst thou ask it ? 

Mar. Sir, canst thou answer it ? 

Jos. Ay, that can I. 

With all my heart I'll speak in his heart's cause. 
If ever man loved woman, Jewry's king 
Doth love the queen of Jewry. 

Alex. Pah ! go to ! 

Go to, I say I He'd love her ten times better 
Were she the queen of somewlicre else. 

Jos. Nay, lady, 

Man were a god could he love more than Herod. 

Alex. Ay, ay, ay, — more than Herod loves himself. 
I can believe thee. 

Jos. [7hr7iin(/ to Mariamne.] Madam, sure thou knowest 
How dear tliy husbaiul holds thee. 

Mar. No, good uiu'le. 

Jos. No ! Ah, thou luoancist thou wouldst make me think 
'Tifl past thy cornpivhension. 

Alex. l*8haw, I say ! 



350 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

He loves her by the moment, by the mood, — 
To fill the gap 'twixt war and war. 

Jos. Why, surely 

Thou dost not think so, madam ? As I live. 
There are ten thousand proofs he loves his queen, — 
Ay, more, that Herod doth love Mariamne 
Till Antony and Cleopatra's loves 
Seem like as sparks blown off from his great fire. 

Alex. Sparks that may scorch his robe of self-esteem 
Some windy day. What are ten thousand proofs ? 
Give me but one, and all the doubtful rest 
Shall sleep beneath my blessing. Where's a proof? 
Come, proof, sir. 

Jos. Proof? And is there need of proof? 

Not that I have it not, but marvel, madam. 
That thou wouldst have it. — Lady, pray thee listen. 
Dost thou too wish a proof? 

Mar. If such there be, 

I will not close mine ears against it. 

Jos. How ! 

If such there be ! If such there be ! Just heaven ! 
If there be proof that Herod loves thee ? Why, 
I have one single one that would outsize 
Ten thousand thousand ! 

Alex. Oh, there's room for it. 

Come, yield it, — yield, good Joseph. 

Jos. Thou, my queen, 

Wilt have me speak ? 

Mar, Ay, if thou carest to. 

Jos. Why, then, — ^but speak not of it to the king : 
I know not if he'd like its mentioning, 
Though 'twere to prove his love, — ere he set forth 
To Laodicea, he did instruct me, madam, — 
Commission me 

Alex. Well, on : this wondrous proof, — 

I thirst to hear it. — Say you, daughter ? 

Mar, Ay, 

Tell on, good uncle. 

Jos. He commissioned me, 

So dearly did he love thee, that should death 

Be meted him by Antony in fact. 

Should he be put to death 

Mar. To death ? What then ? 

Jos. So doth he worship thee, so doteth on thee, 
That he commissioned me, in such event. 

In case, as I have said, that Antony 

Who's there ? Is't no one ? Nay, I saw a figure. 
Some one moved near the door, and, o' my word. 
This must be kept with us. 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. . 351 

Mar. Well, on ! on ! on ! 

What did he tell thee? 

Jos. That if Antony- 

Did order him to death, — did slay him, madam, — 
If Antony 

Mar. If Antony did what? 

Good uncle, thou'st a Cleopatra tongue, 
That thus thou dinnest ever Antony 
In Mariamne's ears. TheyM hear of Herod. 

Jos. Well, then, in short, he did commission me, 
If such were his sad fate, to send thee after. 

Mar. How, sir ? Not slay me ? 

Jos. Ay, that was his order. 

So dearly did he love thee that in death — 
Even in death — he would not be without thee. 

Mar, Oh, mother, mother, take me to thy breast ! 
I'm but thy child again, — no wife ! no wife ! 
No wife ! 

Jos. Why, lady ! — 

Alex. Dost thou mean to say 

That crowned devil bade thee murder her ? — 
My daughter? 

Jos. -^ay, not murder. 

Alex. He hath murdered, 

Why not again ? Blood-lust doth grow with tasting, 
And murders breed as summer locusts do. 
He hath her brother murdered, why not her? — 
Why not the sister ? Shall there be a limit 
Unto a Herod's thirst : when he cries out 
For blood to slake it, doth that being live 
Who'd dare deny him ? Yea ! For I am she, — 
I, Alexandra, rightful queen of Jewry ! 
What! call you this a proof? — a proof of love? 
That she be murdered ? Oh, how he doth love her ! 
So that's thy proof? Oh, how he worships her! 
It is thy proof, you say ? Witness, O God, 
How he must dote upon her ! Mariamne, 
Up! up ! Wilt thou bear this? Ah ! she hath swooned. 
Some water, pray you. Toss me that cushion quickly. 
Here, place it here. Water, I pray you, sir. [Exit Joseph. 
O God of Gods, whose brow is bound with justice, 
Whose loins with vengeance, — Thou whose changeless shadow 
Breaks on the edge of S[)acc, whose sheltering wings 
Enroof the windy temple of the stars, 
To whom the stars themselves are but as gold-dust 
From noiseless wlieels of thy Triumphal Car, — 
Thou who of Thine Omnipolence niadest man 
Visible in Thine image, and invisible 
Of Thine own essence, — lot not liis spilt blood 
Cry out to Thee in vain. Judge Thou, O Jah, 
Vol. XLII.— 28 



352 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

The murderer of Aristobulus, 
Of him who as my son was dear indeed, 
But as thy high-priest precious beyond words ! 
Judge Thou in all the would-be murderer 
Of this mine other child, the lawful daughter 
Of Alexander Thine anointed king ! 
Judge him by his desires, not by his deeds. 
And Thou wilt have to make another hell 
To scorch another Satan ! 

SCENE 111.— Another room in the palace. 
Enter Salome, laughing. 

Sal. Oh, fool, fool, fool ! Oh, excellent, sweet fool ! 
Sweet husband fool ! Sweet, simple, foolish Joseph ! 
How thou hast played into mine hands with this ! 
To tell her that, — ha ! ha ! — to tell her that. 
Of all things in the world, to prove his love ! 
When thou art dead, mine own dear fool of fools, 
I will turn Roman and erect a temple 
Unto thy godlike memory ! Oh, this — 
This is beyond my utmost expectation, — 
Mine enemy to toss into my lap 
The ball of fate, — my loyal husband — oh ! 
I never loved him until now ! ha ! ha ! 
What wisdom's in the fooling of some fools ! 
Here comes my brother. — This will please you, brother, — 
Sweet brother, this will please you when you hear it. 
Wilt have the bracelet made to an arrow-head 
To reach my heart, good brother ? Nay, not yet, — 
Not yet, by that of Herod that's mine own ! 
Farewell, sweet brother, till thou hear'st this news. 
Oh, Joseph, thou hast made me bride again. 
I am again in love with thee for this ! — 
Oh, darling fool ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! [ExUy laughing. 

Enter Heroj), folding some papers, followed by Attendant. 

Her. Run after Saramallas with these papers. 
And bid the queen attend me. [Exit Attendant 

How accursed 
These quarrels that divide us ! I am thirsty 
Already for her lips. Her angry eyes 
Yet paint the air with horror. — Death ! that look — 
That look she gave me ! Yet I did deserve it ; 
Ay, ay, 'twas well deserved. How her lips curled. 
Like threads that writhe in fire, and her thin nostrils 
Sucked like a veil blown o'er an open mouth. 
I swear, were she but angry with another, 
I should more love her angry than composed ! 
Ah, she is here. My blood leaps hard to meet her. 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 353 

Now, as I live, she shall be friends with me, 
Or I will make an enemy of God ! 

Enter Mariamne. 

My queen ! 

Mar. ' Not thine 

In anything. 

Her, What, madam ? 

Mar, Neither queen, 

Nor wife, nor friend, nor slave, of thine. 

Her. What, madam ? 

Mar. My name is Mariamne. I am sister 
To Aristobulus, — that Aristobulus 
Who died conveniently. 

Her, Why, what is this ? 

Mar. The truth in person. 

Her. Mariamne, thou — 

Even ihou mayst go too far. 

Mar. How ? To my grave ? 

Her. Hast thou gone mad ? 

Mar. If to face fate be madness. 

Her. Is this some trick, — some fantasy ? 

Mar. Why, no. 

It is my freedom's birthday. 

Her, How ? Thy freedom ? 

Mar. Have I not said ? I am mine own and God's : 
None other owns so much as the sixth share 
In my least drop of blood. 

Her. Dost thou defy me ? 

Mar. No, Herod ; I despise thee. 

Her. What? 

Mar. Despise 

And scorn thee. 

Her. Thou art mad, — Fm sure of it ; 

Ay, thou art mad, — mad, — mad ! 

Mar. If it be madness 

To scorn thee, I am mad. 

Her. To scorn me ? Thou ? 

To scorn me ? Thou, wliom I have loved ! — God ! loved ! 

Mar. Loved ? Loved ? Blaspheme not liove's most holy 
name. 
Lest he do blast thee. What, thou love ? What ! thou ? — 
Herod, and say thou'st loved ? Oh, love most mighty, 
Most infinite, most tender, to contemplate 
The murder of the thing it loved ! 

Her, The murder? 

Wert thou not mad 

Mar. Tlie nuirder, — ay, the nuiiiler. 

What! thou canst stand and bare tliine eye.s to mine, 
And speak of love? OIi, wise to iiuike iny butclier 



354 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

Him whom thou didst suspect me with, — ay, Herod, 
The man whom thou didst think my paramour ! 

Her. What dost thou mean ? 

Mar. That thou didst love me well 

Most well and nobly, when thou ordered'st Joseph, 
If thou wert slain by Marc Antonius, 
To slay me also, whom thou dost so love ! 

Her. Who told thee this ? Who told thee this, I say ? 

Mar. Joseph himself. 

Her. Adulteress ! 

Mar. Sir 

Her. Ay, 

Adulteress ! Now know I thou art false. 
What ! dost thou think a man would give such words 
Unto a woman lest there were between them 
A tie more strong than death? — would thus brave death. 
Nay, woo death as a bride ? Cursed be ye both ! 
Thou, woman, thou, whom I have called my wife, 
May there be drought throughout thy treacherous veins 
As in a land accursed ! Ay, mayst thou shrivel 
To a lank, eye-blasting horror day by day. 
Until a million million lagging years 
Have sucked thy blood, as babes once sucked thy breast 
When thou wast Herod's wife ! 

Mar. Thy coward curse 

I do shake off as 'twere a stained garment. 
God is with me. Thou, Herod, stand'st alone. 
Thou hast scared even pity from thy side 
With those foul words. There is my crown, — there all 
Of Mariamne that remains to thee ! 

\_Flings her crown at Ms feet, and Exit. 

Her. Oh, God ! I choke ! Wine, there ! Nay, blood, — 
blood, — blood ! [Exit. 



ACT IV, 

SCENE I.— ^ room in Herod's palace. 
Enter Herod, laughing. 

Her. Am I called Herod, and shall Fate laugh at me? 

No, I will laugh at Fate ! 

Ha I ha ! ha ! ha ! Oh, I have been well fooled, — 

Herod the Fool, not Herod King of Jewry. 

Who was the man in Egypt had a treasurer 

Called Joseph? But that Joseph was not false. 

Potiphar's Joseph unto Herod's Joseph 

Was as the smile of God unto His frown. 

God's frown ? Ay, God can frown ; but so can Herod. 

And Herod's wife to Potiphar's ? Ay, there — 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 355 

There is the matter : my wife unto Potiphar's 

Is as one drop of mud unto another ! 

Oh, curse her ! curse her ! What ! false unto me ? — 

My queen, and with my treasurer ? Both false ? 

Not even the cutting comfort of his truth 

To hug ? Adulteress ! adulteress ! 

Now let such angels as cry " Holy !" thrice 

Before the throne of God, so shriek that word 

" Adulteress'' that she may hear it ring 

From heaven to hell, when she doth stand in pride 

Before the throne of Satan ! May she live 

To die ten times a pulse-beat ! May starved fiends, 

With faces like her children's, gnaw her heart 

And spit it in her eyes to dry her tears ! 

May she be Baal's drudge, and bear him devils 

To rend her paramour ! God ! God ! God ! God ! 

That I were but Thyself, to revise hell 

And multiply capacity for pain 

By all the worlds in space ! 

Enter Sohemus. 

8oh. I am here, my liege. 

Her, Go bid my mother and Salome hither. 
Ay, let her come. \_Exit Sohemus.] 'Tis well that she should 

come. 
She shall this dainty pleasure share with me. 
For every pang of anguish I endure, 
She shall be torn with two, — ay, with a hundred. 
Oh, devil, devil, to have told me of it ! 
And yet I'd loiow. But 'twas a devil's errand. 

[^Bhiier Salome and Cypros. 
So, madam, thou hast come, — and thou ? Ye're welcome. 
The day is fair. 

Sal. What mean'st thou ? 

Her. What mean'st thou ? 

Sal When? 

Her, When thou brought'st me that bracelet ? 

Sal. ^ Why, 

My meaning was as easily observed 
As was the bracelet. 

Her. [Seizing her by the throat.'] Darcst thou, jade? So I so ! 

Oj/p. Herod, hold oif thy hands! Thou'lt choke Iier ! 

Her. Ay, 

By God's help or tlio devil's, so I will. 

Oi/p. Tiiou'rt mad ! — Help, ho ! Tiie king is mad I 

Her. 'Tis mndneas 

To say a king is mad. Well, there she is : 
Mayst thou rejoice in her I 

Oi/p. Thou hast half killed hw. 



356 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

Her, Would it were wholly ! Serpents die not thus. 

Oyp. Thou art a fiend ! 

Her, Else were I not her brother. 

Look thou, — thou, madam, who art lying there, — 
Die not ere thy reward be given thee. 
I took thee for a liar, but in all 
Thou hast been true, — I do acknowledge it, — 
In all, — in all. IVe somewhat roughly used thee. 
But thou shalt have amends, — ay, ay, amends. 
What thinkest thou 'twill be ? Thou canst not dream, 
Canst thou, poor dove ? thou art so sadly ruffled 
Since thou didst choose to preen thy dainty feathers 
Betwixt a tiger's paws, — poor dove, poor dove ! 
But there shall be reward. 

Oyp. Speak what thou meanest. 

Canst thou not see she is half dead — poor girl ! — 
With thy rough usage? 

Her, She shall have a toy 

To soothe her waking, — ay, a pretty ball 
To toss withal, of red and white and black. 
Like you the colors ? 

Sal. Dost thou mean in truth 

Thou hast aught for me ? 

Her, A.Y. 

Sal, What is it? 

Her, Why, 

Thy husband's head ! — Without, there, ho ! \_Enter Attendant, 

Send Sohemus 
Straightway unto me. — What ! dost pale ? What ! thou, 
A Joseph's wife, and pale ? Thou ! thou ! Oh, thou 
Shalt feel what 'tis to suffer. — [Enter Sohemus. 

Sohemus, 
Take forth this woman's husband, the Idumean 
Joseph, sometime my trusted treasurer, 
And let him not return. 

Sal, How ! Banish him ? 

Her, No. 

Sal. What then ? 

Her, Slay him. 

Sal, Never ! thou wouldst not. 

Her. Soft ! shall I break a promise ? 'Twas my word. 
Thou shalt be paid in full, — in full, — in full. 
By God I I am half minded that thy lap 
Should serve as block for his beheading ! — Sir, 
Away unto thy office I — Ay, there, crouch, — 
Crouch, thou foul, damned thing. What ! still so white, 
For all thy well-daubed red ? Ere it be night 
Thou shalt have blood for paint I 

Oyp. My son ! — my son ! 

Her, No son of thine, to call that monster sister. 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 367 

— Let me not thrice remind thee, Sohemus : 
To work without delay. To work ! 

Soh. But, sire- 



Her. Tempt me not thrice, I say. Begone ! 

[Sohemus attempts to go, but Salome dings to him 
and prevents him from leaving.'] 

Sal By God, 

He shall not till I know what thou dost purpose. 

Her, Why, then remain, good Sohemus ; remain. 
^Twill give me joy such as kings seldom know 
To tell her what I purpose. It is this. 
With the first western streak of evening red. 
It is my purpose — wilt thou write it down ? 
Here are my tablets, if thou hast none. No ? 
So be it. As I said, with the first stain 
Of blood from Night's wound on the brow of Day 
The blood of thy sweet spouse shall stain likewise 
The sword of him I shall appoint herewith 
To strike his fair head from his comely neck. 
'Tis now some minutes short of sunsetting. 
Let Sohemus place a chair beside this window 
Ere he goes forth. Methinks it is but just 
That after all thy crafty painstaking 
Thou shouldst enjoy results unto the full. 
The execution will take plaoe there, — seest thou ? — 
Beneath that date-tree. — Sohemus, a chair. 

8aL Thou wouldst not do it ! 

Her, No, I'll have it done. 

From childhood IVe abhorred the sight of blood, 
Save when it's battle-shed : it turns me faint. 
Wilt thou not have the chair ? 

SaL Thou couldst not kill him. 

Her. What didst thou think that I would do, sweet sister, 
When thou hadst proved him false ? Have him to sup ? 
A higher honor waits him, trust me, madam : 
He shall be Herod's chief ambassador 
To Satan, and his power unlimited. 
There are some things in hell that I'd have changed, — 
Ay, some in heaven. Thou'rt pale. Nay, have the chair. 

Sal. If thou wouldst kill him, let her die with him. 

Her. Make her ambassadress who was a queen ? 
It were not seemly. 

Sal. 'Tis the law of Jewry 

That both should die. 

Her. Herod is Herod's law. 

Sal. Brother, I lied I In all I lied I In everything 
I was a liar I 

Her. Ay, and thou dost lie. 

In all thou lie.st, and in everything 
Thou art a liar, still I — 



358 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 



Sal, Good brother, hear me 

Her. A Herod hear a liar? 

Sal. 'Twas her fault, — 

Not his, but hers. 

Her. Devil ! I'd shed his blood 

To wipe those words out, if for nothing else ! 
What ! thou art not yet satisfied ? God's wrath ! 
ni make thee drain a goblet of his blood 
Unto my health ! Away ! The west is red ; 
The headsman's sword is thirsty. 

Sal. Herod 

Her. Nay, 

Remind me not that I am Herod, woman. 
If thou wouldst gain thy plea. 

Sal. Brother 

Her. That's worse. 

Sal. As Jewry's king I kneel to thee. 

Her. As wife 

To an adulterous hound I spurn thee. 

Sal. [To Cypros.] Madam, 

Help me to plead. 

Oyp. Wilt thou not hear me, sir ? 

Her. No ! for thou art her mother. — Sohemus, 
Forth on my errand. 

Sal. [Clinging to Sohemus.] Nay, he shall not. 

Oyp. Sir, 

Think what thou doest. 

Soh. Ay, in God's name, sire 

Her. In mine own name I do command thee forth. — 
Unhand him, madam. Thou weak, snivelling wretch. 
Unloose him, or I will compel thee, — thus. — 

[Dragging Salome away from Sohemus.] 
Sohemus, forth upon my errand. Lo ! 
The west is yet more red ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! 

SCENE 11.— Enter Mariamne. 

Mar. Oh, God ! that I were dead ! — that I were dead ! — 
That I were dead ! — or that I had not lived 
To be the sepulchre of mine own heart ! 
What ! Mariamne called adulteress 
By Herod ? Herod call me that ? Just heaven ! 
All things are possible after this thing ! 
Oh, that foul name ! Would he had sent his sword 
To find the utmost secret of my heart, 
Or ever my quick ears had sucked that poison ! 
Where shall I turn for comfort ? — Is to live 
Always to wish for death ? Now, were it so, 
And my veins nourisliing an unborn child, 
I'd spill their plenty unto lapping dogs 
Ere breath should be its portion ! Let me think, — 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 359 

Ay, let me think. He shed my brother's blood, 

And my blood feeds the hearts of his two sons. 

What horror were beyond this horrible ? 

Ay, there is one. He hath been loved by me ! 

IVe held his murderous hands, played with the curls 

That warmed his murder-pregnant brain, — ay, kissed — 

Oft kissed the lips that spoke the murdering words. 

Lain down my head above the awful secret 

His heart so well did keep ! Oh, God ! oh, God ! 

Must I know this and live ? Sweet heaven, but rid me 

Of this disgraced body, and my soul 

Upon the wind of knowledge may be blown 

Eternally an alien and accursed. 

Yet I will think Thee merciful. 

Enter Alexander with pomegranate-flowers. 

Alex, Look, mother, 

Sweet, mother, look ! Here are pomegranate-flowers, 
To make thee think thou'rt in Samaria. 
Are those more beautiful ? Look, mother ! 

Mar. Nay, 

Nay, do not touch me ! do not speak to me ! 
Oh, look not so, my heart, — my life, — my son, — 
Mine, and not his ! Come, touch me ! touch me ! touch me ! 
Speak to me ! kiss me ! clasp me ! let me hear 
Ten thousand words of love ! 

Alex. Why dost thou hold me ? 

Thou'lt crush the flowers. And pray thee tell me, mother. 
Why wast not pleased at first ? Have I been naughty ? 
I thought thouMst like the flowers so much. 

Mar. I do, — 

I do. The pretty flowers, — ay, they are lovely, 
And colored like to blood, — like unto blood. 

Alex. Why dost thou say it so ? The ugly word ! 
I hate that word, — that " blood." Wilt thou not wear them ? 

Mar. Ay, ay, — upon my heart, — there is the place. 
Look not at me out of his eyes. Dost hear ? 
Thou hast his eyes, I say ! Do not look at me ! 

Alex. Mother! 

Mar. No, not that word ! Dost hciir me, boy ? 
Why, they're liis very eyelids ! Got thee gone ! 
Away with tliee ! Oh, God ! Come back ! come back ! 
I did not mean it. Look at me, nor weep ! 
I did not mean it. Tjook, I'll drink thy teal's 
With kisses. Would that they wore ])oison()us ! 
Is this the dagger that 1 gave thee? ("onie, — 
Give it to me again, and here [Llrn'ovcrimj her neck. 

Alex. Nay, mother, 

What dost thou mean ? Take care I It is so sharp ; 
I sharpened it to-day. 



360 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

Mar. To-day is well ; 

To-day should every sword throughout Judea 
Be newly whetted, and their edges proved 
Upon one heart I 

Alex, At what dost look so hard ? 

Mar, Upon that glare of steel. Stand not like that, — 
'Tis so he stands a hundred times a day. 
Move, — walk, — change that position, — anything, 
So thou dost not look like him. Yes, — thy flowers, — 
Thy flowers. When hast thou seen thy father ? Nay, 
I mean thou must not name him unto me 
So long as thou dost live. Dost understand ? 

Alex, I must not name my father to thee ? 

Mar, Ay, 

Thou must not. 

Alex, Why ? Dost thou not like his name ? 

I will not say his name. 

Mar, Thou'lt not speak of him 

In any wise. Dost hear ? 

Alex, Ay, mother, but 

Mar, Where didst thou get these flowers ? They are so fresh. 
Didst thou think of it all of thine own self? 
There is one pity : they have not a perfume. 
Perfume's the soul of flowers. I think such flowers 
As have no perfume will not bloom in heaven. 
But perish, with the beasts. Thou hast not seen him, — 
Thy father, — then, to-day ? Nay, speak not ! Look, 
Here is the way the fruit begins to grow. 
Did he speak to thee ? Nay, no word, — no word. 
There, go ! go ! go ! Bring me some flowers, my heart, 
That have sweet perfumes. Run ! run ! run ! 

l^Exit Alexander. 

SCENE 111.— Enter Herod and Dosithexjs. 

Her, A letter from Hyrcanus unto Malchus? 
Malchus ? What should Hyrcanus with this Malchus ? 

Dos. My liege, I'd have thee read. My tongue rebels : 
'Twill not be proxy for disloyal words. 

Her, Disloyal? 

Dos. When thou'st read the letter, sire, 

I think thou wilt agree with me. 

Her. Disloyal ? 

He gave it to thee ? 

Do8, He and Alexandra. 

Her, Ah ! Alexandra ! Well, I'll read it. So ! 
An escort to Arabia ! That's well, — 
Excellent. Ay, I'm very glad to know 
He's in such gallant health. An escort, sir, 
Unto Arabia ! He's somewhat aged — 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 361 

Think you ? — to look on travelling as a pleasure. 
I'm glad his health's so good. 

Dos, Was I right, sire, 

To bring the letter to thee ? 

Her, Right, — most right. 

'Tis at all times a cheering thing, Dositheus, 
To know thy wife's grandfather is in health. 
It cheers me, sir, — it cheers me, verily. 
I thought he coughed of late. 

Dos, And so he doth. 

Her, No matter : he'd ride double with his cough 
Into Arabia. It cannot, sir. 
Be very heavy. Come, re-seal this letter. 

Dos, Seal it? 

Her, Ay, seal it. And when it is sealed. 

Bear it, as thou wast told to do, to Malchus. 

Dos, My liege ? 

Her, Sir, I have said. 

Dos, That I this letter 

Bear to Arabia's governor ? 

Her, Ay. 

Dos. Sire, 

Thou canst not understand its full import. 

Her, Possibly. 

Dos, But, my lord, take it to Malchus ? 

How if he answers it ? 

Her. Dositheus, 

It is not how if he will answer it. 
But, if he answers, how it will be answered. 

Dos, I think I comprehend thy meaning, sire. 

Her. Think not, but act. Take thou the fleetest horse 
From out my stables, and to Malchus, — ho ! 
To Malchus ere 'tis night ! Dositheus, 
Be prompt, and thou shalt win a higher place 
Than even now thou hast in mine esteem. 
Away to Malchus. 

Dos. I will ride, my lord. 

As lover to his maid. Trust me in all. [Exit. 

Her. [^Looking after him.'] In all but all. This woi-ks to 
thine advantage : 
Therefore I trust thoe. Wore Hyrcanus king, 
Thou shonldst not be the letter-carrier 
Of Herod, good Dositheus, — no, no, 
I promise thee I God I how my head burns ! Oh I 
It is as though my skull wore but a crucible 
For flam(\s to dauoo in. Ha ! lia ! lui ! That's famous ! 
A crown6(l oru(;iblo ! I'vo not the kuaok 
Of fitting big idoas to little words : 
I'm Herod, — more a ])()om than a poet. 
l*oets are mad, they say, — loiustwise in Persia ; 



362 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

Well, I'm in Jewry, and I'm not a poet, 

Ergo, not mad ; yet I've sometimes bethought me. 

If the worst madness were not sanity. 

To be most mad 's to think thyself most sane. 

But if thou'rt sane and think'st thou mayest be mad ? 

How then ? Were it not better many times 

To be unknowing mad ? — honestly raving ? 

'Tis not a pleasant task at hush of night 

To daub upon the canvas of the future 

Such scenes as thou mayst choose to conjure up 

When thou shalt have declared a war 'gainst Reason. 

'Tis better to dream sleeping than awake. 

Traitors go mad sometimes, so I have heard, 

For thinking on their sins ; beggars, they say. 

Are sometimes starved to madness ; felons, too. 

Rave in the galleys. I do ofttimes wonder 

If madness ever seized a king ? Ay, ay, 

Nebuchadnezzar grazed ; but Balaam's ass 

Forsook his asshood and adopted speech : 

It is a serious question which was madder, — 

The man who took the ass's method, or 

The ass who took the method of the man. 

I'll have my chief interpreter take notes 

Upon that theme, — if Balaam's ass was mad. 

On his decision hangs a serious question : 

Nebuchadnezzar's sanity. — What's that ? \_A scream without.'] 

What's that, I say? 

JSnter Alexander, running^ pale as death. 

Alex. Oh, father, father, father ! 

Her, What is it ? Speak, I say ! Where is thy tongue ? 

Speak, o' the instant ! Is thy mother Ha ! 

What o' thy mother? 

Alex, Mother doth not know. 

Oh, come with me, — quick, — quick ! 

Her, What is it, sir ? 

God ! I will know. 

Alex. Oh, sir, — I know it's false, — 

But they have bound my uncle Joseph. Oh ! 
The cords have cut him so ! They say, moreo'er, 
'Tis thy command, and that he must be killed, — 
His head chopped off. Oh, father, come ! — don't wait ! 
I know thou'lt come. He kissed me ; and he wept ; 
He said thou hadst his blessing ; and the blood 
Was all upon his wrists, and on his robe. 
And they are cutting off his beard and hair. 
Oh, come ! come ! come ! 

Her. Well, boy, why should I come? 

Alex. Oh, father, please be different ; mock me not, — 
Mock me not now : afterwards thou mayst tease me 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 3^3 

Until my heart is like to burst, but now — 

Oh, quickly, father, quickly give me leave 

To have chopped off the heads of those who seized him. 

Oh, 'twas so pitiful ! 

He'd just begun to show me how a storm — 

A sand-storm in the desert — smothered men 

And camels. Come ! come ! come ! 

The cord has cut so deep into his wrists ! 

Come, father ! 

Her. How if I told thee I had ordered this? 

Alex, Oh, do not mock ! 'Twill be too late ! Oh, come ! 

Her. Thy uncle Joseph dies at my command. 

Alex. Oh, no ! no ! no ! 

Her. I say he doth. 

Alex. And I, 

That thou art mad to say it. 

Her. Mad ! 

Alex. Ay, mad ! 

Oh, father, come ! I kneel. 

Her. It is too late. 

Alex. No ! no ! not if thou'lt hurry. 

Her. I do tell thee 

It is too late. \^Turns to window. ~\ Ha ! there he is. — Good uncle, 
Good-even to thee. Bear King Lucifer 
Word of my everlasting fealty. So ! 
Up in my arms, boy. Look ! 

Alex. [Shrieks.'] Oh, uncle ! uncle 1 

Speak to him, father ! Oh ! the sword ! the sword ! 
Make him put up his sword. — We're coming, uncle ! 
Uncle, we're coming. — Oh, why doth he kneel ? 
Why doth he bend his neck ? Oh, God ! oh, God ! 
The blood ! the blood ! the blood ! 

[Turns suddenly with a vdld gesture.'] 
Thou'rt not my father ! — 
Thou art a devil. Devils wear not crowns. 
There, devil ! 

[Snatches off his father'* s croivn and flings it oid 
of the window, then swooyis.] 

Her. [Dashing him dovm.] Not thy father ? I believe thee. 



ACT V. 

SCENE T.— ^ room in Herod's palace. 
Enter Salome and Chtp-Bearcr. 

Sal. The king returns to-day. 
Oup-Bearer, Ay, nmdam. 

Sal. Well, 

Art .sure tlion kii()\\(\s|, Ihv pari? 



364 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

Chip-Bearer, Hear me, and see. 

Bed. Be quick, then. Soft ! I'll draw this curtain first. 
Now, quickly. 

Oup-Bearer. First, then, madam, I'm to wait 
Till thou send'st for me ; then, on some occasion 
When the king hath had words more violent 
Than usual with the queen, I enter in, 
Hastily, yet with a composed mien, 
That I may seem assured in every way 
As to the service I'm about to render. 
Next I do tell the king Queen Mariamne 
Hath coaxed me to assist her in the mixture 
Of a love-potion, all of whose ingredients 
I do not know ; that this was kept a secret 
From all but us who brewed it ; that I thought 
My safest course, both for myself and him, 
Was to confess it all. Is not that right? 

Sal Ay, ay. But shouldst thou felter 

Oup-Bearer. I'll not falter, 

Trust me, good madam, I have not forgotten 
The day she had me scourged for making free 
To pinch the ears of Aristobulus 
For sprinkling me with water. I'll not shrink. 
Her servants' whips have sealed me to thy service. 

Sal. Well, go thy ways till I have need of thee. 
Go with a usual face : purse not thy brows. 
Nor look as though thy heart hung on thy ribs 
A bag o' secrets. Go : some one is coming. 
Think of the gold that shall be thine. That's well. 
Now go. — Ha ! it is she herself. Go quickly ! [^Exit Oup-Bearer, 

Enter Mariamne. 

Good-morrow, murderess. 

Mar, Wouldst thou, poor wretch, 

Raise anger from the dead ? Thy woes, Salome, 
Make me forbearing. 

Sal. So they make not me, 

Proud-nostrilled harlot ! 

Mar. Darest thou ? 

Sal, Dare I? God, 

Help me to laugh ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! Dare I ? 

Mar, Nay, I forgot, — thou'rt mad. Poor, fond, weak 
wretch. 
In seeking my destruction thou hast compassed 
Thy husband's death. 

Sal, Wilt thou remind me of it ? 

Take that ! [Stabs at W.] 

Mar, [Quietly y holding her by both vrrists,'] Yes, I will take 
it, verily, 
But not as thou didst mean that I should take it. 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 365 

I am as far thy better in my body 

As in my soul. There ! get thee gone ! — away ! — 

Ere I am tempted unto what I would not. 

ni keep thy dagger as a dear memento 

Of this most gentle scene ; and should my heart 

Grow soft in thinking of thy grief, my soul 

Shall profit by the lesson of this steel. 

Go, woman. 

SaL Ay, I go, — to come again. [jEM. 

Mar, Murderess ? Yea, I feel a murderess. 
Ah, Joseph, had I known, — had I but known, — 
Torture could not have wrung those words from me. 
For I'd have wedded dumbness on the rack. 

God, O God, is this Thy king?— this Herod?— 
This Mariamne's husband ? — this rage-buffeted 
And passion-driven slayer of the innocent ? — 
This king whose humors rule him ? — this fond fool 
Who wears distemper's motley, and whose crown 
Is but a badge of sin ? Rather hath not 

Some devil dispossessed his soul, to reign 

Over his body's kingdom ? 

Oh, this is not the man whose bride I was. 

The king whose queen, the conqueror whose wife ! 

Ah me ! we women, how have we vexed Love, 

That he doth scourge us speak we but his name ? 

1 will be gentle with her, for the sake 

Of him who was her husband ; but this dagger 
Shall keep me ever cautious. 

Ent&i' Herod. 

Her, What say you ? 

Mar, I spoke, sir, with a ghost. 

Her, Ha? 

Mar, With a ghost 

Which was thy handicraft. 

Her, Woman ! 

Mar, A ghost 

That wore a scarlet collar, — one whose head 
Was plastered on with blood. 

Her, Away, thou fiond ! 

Mar. Nay, send me not away : I should much please thee. 
There is the making of a pretty ghost 
In me, my lord, and scarlet is my color. 

Her, Devil ! 

Mar, Nay, wife to one. 

Her, [Jbrawimj a r/ar/r/rr.] Jk'gono, I say I 

Mar. Ay, Htrik(^! Tlioii liast a goiiius, sire, bcliovo mo, 
For ghost-niakiiig. Siriko! thiMH' is nothing — av, 
Nothing in all the world would so enchant mo 
As being made a ghost to haunt thee ! Nay, 



366 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

Glare not as I already were a ghost. 
I see thou art not in a loving mood : 
Therefore I will begone. Great king of ghosts, 
Good-morrow. [Exit 

Her. I said that I'd have blood, — I said so, — ay, 
But there is not enough in all the land 
To slake my humor's thirst. Oh that I were 
Another Pharaoh, and another Moses 
Would turn the Nile to blood a second time. 
That I might swim through its encrimsoned waves ! 
Oh that I were a thing of quenchless thirst, 
A vampire monstrous, flattened at the throat 
Of one vast body which should be the flesh 
Incorporate of every thing alive ! 

Enter Dositheus. 

Dositheus, 
Is'tthou? 

Dos. My liege, the letter. 

Her. How ? From Malchus ? 

Dos. From Malchus, sire. 

Her. That's well ; that's well. Ah ha ! 

Look here, Dositheus : what think you, man. 
Of that, — and that, — and that ? 
He will not only send an escort, sir. 
To his beloved Hyrcanus, — dost thou mark ? — 
But will make welcome all whom he may bring. 
Even all the Jews that may be of his party, 
And he shall lack for nothing. God of Israel ! 
There's one thing that he shall not lack for, — death ! 

Dos. My liege 

Her, So the good Malchus doth agree ? 

Dos. My liege 

Her. I'll show this letter to the Sanhedrim, 
And he shall straightway suffer to the utmost 
The law that deals with traitors ! 

Dos. But, my liege 

Her. Away ! Send me Hyrcanus and his daughter. 
Bid them at once attend me. [Exit Dositheus. 

Would to heaven 
His withered veins held more of that red fluid 
Which can alone quench my insatiate thirst ! 
Such drops as death may wring from his dry body 
Will but make wet the door-way of a throat 
That gapes for rivers. 

Enter Hyrcanus and Alexandra. 

Thou art come, my lord. 
I'm glad to see that thou'rt not more infirm. 
I pray thee, sit. — Sit, madam. 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 367 

Alex. No, I'll stand. 

I can breathe better standing. What is it ? 

Her, Why, sure thou wouldst not hear before thy father, — 
Thou who art courteous to thy waiting-woman 
And cry thy needle pardon if thou breakest it ? — 
Thou'lt sit, sir? 

Hyr, Yes, I thank thy courtesy, 

I'm better friends with bed each day I live. 

Her. Yet thou'rt industrious for an old man, sir, 

Hyr. Industrious? 

Her, Ay; thou doest many things 

Which young men could not better. 

Hyr. I, my son? 

Alex. What dost thou mean ? 

Her. Softly, good mother-in-law : 

I speak unto thy father. — Good Hyrcanus, 
Thou hast a talent that I dreamed not of. 

Hyr. Thou flatterest me, sir. I won a crown 
From the Athenian senate once ; but, truth, 
'Twas long ago. 

Her. The thing of which I speak 

Might, sir, have won thee back the crown of Jewry, 
Had it succeeded. 

Alex. What? 

Her. I speak, my friend, 
Of this thy unsuspected talent 

Alex. Well? 

Her. Of letter- writing. [^8hows him the letter.'] 

I assure thee, sir, 
I could not trace — upon my honor, sir — 
Characters clearer or more shapely. 

Hyr. Daughter, 

It is some jest, is't not ? Pray you, inform me ; 
I never had the trick o' jest-catching. 

Alex. Father, come with me. Ay, it is a jest, — 
It is a jest. Come, father ; come, Hyrciuius. 

Her. Stay, both of ye ! Stir not a step ! — A jest ? 
A jest to make hell merry ! 

What I wouldst feign ignorance, thou damned traitress ? — 
Thou, sir, dost thou in truth dare to j^rotend 
Thou dost not recognize this letter? — this, — 
The one thou sent'st unto Arabia's governor, — 
To Malchus? Ha ! I touch thee ! Good my lord. 
This Malchus is an honest friend o' thine. 
Look I he will send thee escort. Look ! thy party, 
Even such Jews as thou mayest take with tJuv, 
Will be provided for. Look here, — and iiere ! 
Thou shalt not want for aught. Oh, would to heaven 
That I had such a friend ! — that (his same Malchus 
Vol. XLII.— L>1 



368 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

"Were Herod\s friend [Alexandra sinks half fainting into a 

chair], — What, madam, wilt thou sit, 
Now that thy father stands ? It is not seemly. 
Up on thy feet : thou canst breathe better so. [^Laughing^ 
Methinks thou shouldst thank God with all thy breath 
That thou dost breathe at all ! 

Alex, It was my fault : 

Lay all the blame on me, — on me. 

Her, Attend. 

This is thy father's signature, is't not ? 

Alex. I teased him to it. Oh, if any suffers, 
It should be I ! 

Hyr. Nay? iiay, thou must not suffer : 

It was my fault to let thee bring me to it. 
I am old, Herod, but not yet so old 
As to have outlived courage. Weep not, daughter ; 
I'll bear the fullest consequence; — weep not: 
Would I could weep ! 

Her, Thou shalt, and tears of blood.— 

Without, there, ho ! [Eater Attendants,'] 

Lead forth this man straightway 
Unto the palace prison, and send Sohemus 
Unto me in my closet. 

Alex. Thinkest thou, Herod, 

While Alexandra still is Alexandra, 
Her father shall be fingered by a slave ? — 
Thou knave, thou durst not touch him. — Father, come ; 
Come with me, — ^so. — Thou, sirrah, lead the way. — 
Good father, lean on me. 

Hyr. I'm very old ; 

Death hath been close to me for many years. 
I am not frightened. Hath he naught to say ? — 
Naught of his reasons ? 

Jdex. He hath none to speak of. 

Come, come, come, come. 

Hyr, Well, I am old, and death is like a friend 
Who comes disguised as an enemy. 
Think'st thou he'll let me speak to Mariamne 
And to her pretty boys ? 

Alex. Ay, ay. Come on. 

Hyr, Her boys are like her, but one hath his eyes. 
AVell, well, I've lived to be so old that death — 
Even death will not seem new to me. Lead on. — 
Farewell, Antipater. [ExemiU 

Her. That's over. Would it were to do again ! 
Her face — ha ! ha ! — her face was sure the servant 
Of a most furious soul. I can believe it, — 
That 'twas her plot ; yet he must die for it. 
And who can say Antipater is cruel 
When he doth give another that one thing 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 369 

Which he desires, — a swift and sudden death ? 
What's cruelty ? A tree whose roots split hell, 
Whose crest disturbs the stars. Methinks my star 
Hath long since been a cinder, and its fire 
Is all here in my brain. Do men go mad ^ 

For dreading madness ? [^Eiiter Mariamne.] 

Ha ! What wouldst thou ? 

Mar, Madman ! 

Is this thing true ? 

Her, Why dost thou call me madman ? 

I am not mad. 

Mar, Is this thing true, I say ? 

Hast thou given orders that he be imprisoned ? — 
Hyrcanus ? 

Her, Wherefore didst thou call me madman ? 

Thou never calPdst me so till now. 

Mar. Till now 

Thou ne'er wast mad. Give answer to my question. 
Hast sent Hyrcanus unto prison ? 

Her, Ay. 

Mar, Thou hast? — O God, where is Thy justice? 

Her, Look you, 

Why said you I was mad ? I am not so. 
Was I e'er calmer ? 

Mar, Thou hast sent Hyrcanus 

To prison, under charge of treachery ? — 
Hyrcanus, — he who was a king in all 
To make thee seem his sceptre's shadow ! 

Her, Now — 

Why, now, now, now — look now how calm I am ! 
Seem I a madman ? 

Mar, — He who is still king 

By every right which cries thee wrong I — a man 
To make thy memory a woman, — one 
Beside whom thou dost show as black-ribbed clouds 
Against an evening sun ! Thou send Hyrcanus 
To prison ? Thou ? Thou,— Herod ? Now let Satan 
Send God to hell that he may rule in heaven ! 
What ! he in prison at thy order ? — he 
Who even with sin dealt ever holily, — 
He whose white hair the very winds did reverence, — 
He unto whom thy every dignity 

Thou owest, — thy wealth, thy crown, thy throne, thy sceptre, 
That very power which now doth wrong him I Oh, 
Let me believe thee mad, ere that thy reason 
Cried " Amen" to this deed ! 

Her, He is a traitor. 

Mar, And what art thou? thou who usurped his throne, 
Who filched his crown, who stole away his swptre, 
Who hath his grandchild called adulteroiis? 



370 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

Ay, what art thou,— thou, sir, whose name is Herod, 
Whose heart is hell condensed ? 

HefT, Thou say est, a madman. 

Mar. No ! no ! thou art not mad ! Look not like that. 
' When thou didst order him to prison, then, — 
Then wast thou mad. Not now ; not now. 

Her. I am not ? 

Mar, No, no, I tell thee. What dost stare at? Come, 
Thou didst not mean it : I am sure o' that. 
Look ! I'll forget my wrongs, — all, all, all, all, — 
So thou dost not wrong him. 

Her. Why, it were madness 

To set hifla free. I would not give the people 
So good a cause to say that I am mad. 

Mar. They could not have a better cause than this 
That now they have in his imprisonment. 
What ! will the foulest beggar in the streets 
Think that in sanity thou wouldst imprison 
A gentle, fond, feeble, retired old man 
For treachery ? Nay, but believe me, Herod, 
Thou'st ta'en the surest way to prove thy madness. 

Her. Say it no more. 

Mar. Say what ? That thou art mad ? 

Then give me no more cause to say it. See ! 
I've forgot all but what should be remembered, — 
That I am Mariamne and thy wife, 
\ Thy queen, the mother of thy sons. Take me, 
And set Hyrcanus free ! 

Her. What ! wilt thou kiss me ? 

Mar. Yes. 

Her. What ! be as my wife again ? 

Mar, Yes, — ^yes ! 

All that I was, and more, I will be, Herod, 
So thou dost set him free. 

Her, Wilt love me too ? 

Mar, I will be all to thee that thou couldst wish. 

Her. Save loving? 

Mar. If thou dost find fault with me, 

Send me to prison in Hyrcanus' stead. 

Her. Then thou'lt not swear to love me ? 

Mar. Oh, my lord. 

What deed could better merit love than this one 
I'd have thee do ? As thou'lt some day be old. 
Think on his age, and do him reverence. 

Her. Nay, 

I am not old, and think of thee each moment. 
Is that the way to calmness? 

Mar. What's his crime ? 

Or who hath slandered him ? His innocence 
I'll prove sire, with my life. 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 371 

Her, [Handing her Malchush letter^ Not with thy love ? 
Read that. The governor's reply is here, 
On this side, — here. 

Mar, \_Reading.'] Would go to Asphaltites 
And to Arabia. Would have an escort, 
He and my mother. Signed Hyrcanus. — Well, 
What's there of treachery ? I see no harm here. 

Her. No harm ? Thou seest no harm in it? No harm ! 
No harm ! No harm ! But soft ! soft ! soft ! Read on. 
Read Malchus' answer. 

Mar. Escort granted them ; 

All done in's power to aid them ; shelter promised 
Unto his party. — Well ? 

Her. No,— ill, by God ! 

Give me the papers : thou wilt tear them, girl. 
We'll see if that the Sanhedrim thinks with thee. 
No harm ! \_Laughing.'] 'Tis harm to think there is no harm. 

Mar. Thou canst not purpose to submit those letters 
Unto the Sanhedrim ? 

Her. It is my purpose, — 

This very moment. 

Mar. Herod, hear me ! — Look ! 

Look on me ! Look, my lord ! — I kneel ; I kneel. 
Am I less fair than when thou loved'st me ? 

Her. Wilt swear to love me now? 

Mar. All that a wife 

Should be I will be. 

Her. All save loving. Ay, 

Thou dost not love me, and he shall not live 
To take the love that should be mine ! 

Mar. Nay, hear me ! 

Her. No more ! no more ! [Enter Cup-Bearer.'] 

Ha, skive ! what dost thou there? 

Chip-Bearer. My lord, I come on most important mattei's. 

Her. Important matters ? Wliom da they concern ? 
Hyrcanus ? 

Oup-Bearer. No ; the queen. 

Her. The queen ? What queen ? — - 

Queen Mariamne ? Well ? 

Oup-Bearer. Yesterday noon, 

Your majesty, iha queen did come to me 
And ask tliat I would help her brew a potion — 
A love-drink — for your niajcsty. Ik'intj^ won 
By much fine gold, 1 <lid consent, hut afterwards 
Bethought ni(; that, not knowing all the contents 
Of that which she had given nic, 'twere lust 
Both for my loixl and my lord's faithlhl scM'vant 
That 1 should tell my lord concerning it. 

Her. A love-drink ! Ha ! for mo?— ^radani, what's this? 

Mar. Ah bold a lie as ever wms well lied. — 



372 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

Sirrah, hast thou forgot my eunuchs' whips, 
That thus thou bravest me ? 

Oup-Bearer. Your majesty, 

I've not forgotten them. 

Her. A love-drink ! So ! 

For me ? Hast thou this drink ? 

Qap-Bearer. Not now, my lord. 

Princess Salome hath it in her charge. 

Mar. [Aside.^ Salome ! 

Her. Bid her here at once. 

Mar. What, Herod ! 

Thou'lt hear thy slave and sivSter before me ? 
Canst thou not see he lies ? Dost thou not know 
He is in her employ and hired to lie ? — 
Thou craven hound ! stir not until I bid thee. 
Look in mine eyes and say those words again ! — 
Thou seest : he cannot do it. Mark him, sir : 
He cannot look at me. 

Her. Canst thou not so ? 

Oup-Bearer. My lord, mistake me not ; it is not fear 
"Which keeps me from returning the queen's look, 
But that my duty unto thee, my liege. 
Forbids that I should gaze upon thy consort. 

Her. Well said ! Well said ! — Madam, thou art rebuked. 

Mar. Rebuked ! and by that worm ? Thy queen rebuked ! 
And by thy cup-bearer ? — Now long farewell, 
Hyrcanus ! Peace be thine, — as must be death. 
I have done all for thee that woman could 
And yet be woman. 

Her. Nay, what dost thou mean ? 

Where art thou going ? 

Mar. Where I'll find honor, sir, — 

Unto Hyrcanus. 

Her. I forbid it ! 

Mar. I 

Am not to be forbidden. Stand aside. 
If thou art Herod, I am Mariamne, 
And queen unto the end, though crownless. [jEriV. 

Her. So 

Then she is mad, — not I. I am not mad. 
Who said so ? No one. But they must not think so, — 
Not think so, either. I will see a madman 
And make comparison. — Ho, there ! you, sir. 
Do men run mad in Jewry ? 

Oup-Bearer. Ay, my lord. 

Her. Hast thou seen any ? 

Chip-Bearer. What ? Madmen, my lord ? 

Her. Ay, madmen. 

Oup-Bearer. Scores, ray lord. 

Her. How looked they, slave ? — 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 373 

Seemed they to be in any sort acquainted 
With their affliction? 

Oap-Bearer, Some did, sire. 

Her, Some did ? 

They were not mad, then — no ! they were not mad. 
A man may not be mad and know it, slave, 
Think'stthou? 

Cup-Bearer. Why, yes, my lord, sometimes. 

Her, Away ! 

Away ! thou traitorous hound ! thou knave ! thou villain ! 
Out of my sight ! Dost hint that I am mad ? 

[Exit Cup-Bearer. 
When Herod's mad, let God be writ a fool, 
And wisdom's sucklings swarm the throne of heaven. 
What ! shall a man go mad and talk of it ? 
No ! no ! no ! no ! Cunning is twin to madness. 
Madmen will swear unto their sanity 
With th' self-same ravings that proclaim them mad. 
Why, I am calmer than I was a month — 
A week — a day — nay, even a moment past. 
I let her go unhanded, — let her word me, — 
Took even her insults calmly, where a madman 
Had torn her into shreds, — ay, into ribbons ! 
A potion ? A love-potion ? Let me see ; 
That's not so bad. Methinks there's something here 
Not altogether venomous. I'll ponder. 
What if she loves me after all ? — would win me 
By crafty means ? I've heard that such things happen. 
If that were so, — if this love-drink were harmless, — 

If ah ! if Mariamne loveth me ! Why, 

Though hell should burst in flames beneath my feet, 
I'd take her back again, and with my kisses 
Make its worst blaze seem cool I Oh, I'm on fire, — 
On fire ! But let me recollect. The potion, — 
He said he thought 'twas best to tell me. Why? 
Why was it best ? Sure there could be no harm. 

Unless — unless ah ! there's the thing, — unless 

He did suspect that it was poisoned. Ay, 

There is a possibility. No matter I 

I will not think on it. She poison me? — 

She, Mariamne, poison Herod ? Well, 

I'm glad I am not mad, since were I so 

I might havefall'n into this snare. And yet 

It is enough to make a Solomon 

Cry Wisdom wanton, and as lawful wife 

Clip easy Foolishnoss. Now would to (rod 

That I were mud, to know not of this horror ! 

Sweet Madness, anna, come, coni(» ! Scoop out my bniins 

To feed iliy iK'nchnicn, and in this racked skull 

Take up thy wild abode I Let every cranny 



374 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

In my once-loving heart be packed with ravellings 

From Fate's accursed loom, snatch off my crown 

To make the harlot Circumstance a zone, 

And use my sceptre as a rod wherewith 

To scourge all wise men to thy service ! [Exit 

SCENE 11.— JL c^wn^eon.— Hyrcanus and Alexandra. 

Hyr, Good daughter, I am weary : loose these chains 
A little. 

Alex. Oh, God help me, sir, I cannot ! 
Father, thou knowest with what joy of heart 
I'd be there in thy place. Thou knowest that, 
Dost thou not, father ? Look ! lean so, against me. 
Is it not easier ? Here's water, sir, 
If thou art thirsty. 

Hyr, No, I'm only tired. 

Thou think'st he'll let me see my little grandsons 
Ere I am led to execution ? Speak ! 
Dost not, good daughter ? 

Alex. Nay, talk not like that. 

He would not dare to kill thee. 

Hyr. Ay, ay, ay, 

He would. But Mariamne '11 plead for me ? 
Thou saidest so, didst not ? 

Alex. Ay, father. 

Hyr. Well, 

'Tis all with her. Why dost thou weep, my daughter ? 

Alex. Alas ! how canst thou ask me why I weep ? 
Dost thou not suffer for me ? Was 't not I 
Who lured thee to thy ruin ? Did not I 
Draw up that paper and then torture thee 
Until thou'dst signed it ? And am I not free. 
While thou art fettered ? I, — thy daughter, — I, 
Who should have been the comfort of thy age, 
The councillor of all to thy advantage, 
Thy stay in time of trouble ! Look, Hyrcanus : 
I brought thee to thy death. Oh ! curse me ! curse me I 
I kneel to hear thy curses as another 
To receive blessings. Let me no more writhe 
Beneath thy gentleness. Come, curse me ! curse me ! 

Hyr. Good daughter, do not weep. If it be death. 
Why, Death and I are friends, and glad to meet. 
And say not 'tis thy fault if that I die ; 
For in that letter there was naught, believe me, 
To merit this the law's extremest course. 

^^6rc. No: was there? Was there? Answer quickly, father. 
Thou knowest I only wished to place thee, sir, 
Beyond his reach. 

Hyr, I know it. Do not weep. 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 375 

I know it, daughter. Hark ! I hear a footfall. 
Hush! listen; listen. 

Unter Mariamne. 

Alex, Mariamne ! Oh, 

Thou'rt welcome, thou art welcome ! Yet thine eyes 
Are not as I would have them. 

Hyr. Pretty one, 

How will it fare with me? 

Mar, As it should fare 

With him who wrongs thee. Sire, he is a monster, 
And his heart petrified long ere this hour 
Into the corner-stone of a new hell. 

Alex, And thou canst speak so calmly, Mariamne ? 
Knowest his doom, and yet can tell him of 't 
With not so much as even one false note 
In all thy soft voice-music ? 

Mar, Am I calm ? 

I think I'm mine own ghost ; for I feel nothing 
As I was wont to feel. I know the headsman, 
And sent his wife a brew only this Nisan, 
When she lay sick to death. There'll be no mis-stroke. 
Thou art not feared, sir? 

Hyr, No, my pretty one, 

I am not feared of anything but life, 
Now that I have made friends with Death. But, heart, 
I'd say farewell unto our pretty boys. 

Mar. I'll call them. [Exii, 

Alex, Devil ! devil ! Oh, this Herod ! 

Lucifer were a paragon to him, 
And Satan lovable.— O God ! O God ! 
Instruct me how to demonize myself. 
That I may meet him on equality 
And curse him as a sister ! Father, father, 
Art thou asleep ? 

Hyr, Almost. I am fast drowsing 

Unto the final moment, when my pillow 
Shall be the block, and all my dreaming death. 
Peace ! peace I weep not. 

JSnter Mariamne, Alexander, and Aristobulus. 

Ah, pretty ones, come here. 
Thou lookest pale, my soldier. What's the matter? 

3far, He hath not yet recovered, dear Hyrciums, 
From witnessing his uncle's death. 

Hyr, So I so I 

Well, he must not see mine. 

Alex, Oh, no ! no I no ! 

No ! no ! no ! no 1 

Hyr, Tlu*r(>, (hero, my |)rin(v, thou shall not. 



376 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

Why, how thou tremblest ! Look, I am to die, 
And yet I tremble not. 

Alex, IM rather die 

Ten thousand thousand times than see thee killed. 
But then he cannot kill thee, — he cannot. 
He is a devil, but he could not kill thee. 
Say that he could not, mother, — mother, say it ! 
Oh, I did love him so ! I loved him so ! 
And now, whenever I do think of him. 
There is a shining redness comes between us — 
Faugh ! — and a smell of blood, — a thick, wet red, — . 
A damp, fresh, sickening, faint, far-reaching smell ! 
Oh, uncle ! uncle ! 

iSyr, So ! poor boy ! poor boy ! 

And I must die ? 

Mar, Would I could die for thee ! — 

Who's there? 

Enter Attendant and Herald. 

Herald, Hyrcanus, thou art summoned 

To come straightway before the Sanhedrim. 

Hyr. Then kiss me, pretty ones. Come close to me. 
Nay, daughter, do not weep. Come, Mariamne. 
Kneel for my blessing, — all of ye ; kneel there, 
Where I can touch ye. Nay, come closer yet. 
The God of Israel forever keep ye. 
As I would keep ye, were I IsraePs God, — 
Forever love, bless, guard, and cherish ye. 
Don't weep ; don't weep ! I can no more, my heart. 
Unloose this bracelet, — I have missed the clasp, — 
Wear it, and think sometimes of him who wore it. 
This for thee, boy, — and this for thee, — and this 
For thee, my daughter ; all that's left, for Death. 
Don't tremble, Alexander ! this poor body 
Hath not sufficient blood to fill a goblet 
To Herod's health. Farewell, — farewell, — farewell ! 

[Alexandra swoons. 
What, daughter ! wilt thou go before me ? Why, 
It is not like thee so to lack in deference. — 
Look to her, sweet, and if in truth she's dead. 
See that she be entombed with me. Farewell, — 
Farewell, — farewell ! Why, I am young again. 
To think how soon I will be quit of age. 
Lead on. Hyrcanus is once more a king. 
And goes to meet King Death as equal ! \_ExeurU Hyrcanus 
and Attendant, 

Mar, Father ? 

Nay, let me not disturb him. Come, my boys, 

Let's to thy father, — let's unto thy father 

With this sweet news. Let's to him with our thanks. 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 377 

Let's take him kisses, — ha ! ha ! ha ! — such kisses ! 

Let's fall upon our knees to honor him. 

Was ever such a father ? Come, let's hurry ! 

Let's kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss him ! Run ! run ! run ! 

[Exity running, leading her two boys by eiilier hand. 

SCENE III. — A room in the palace. 
Enter Herod and Salome. 

Her. Thou canst not swear that it was poisoned ? 

Sal. No ; 

But can there be a doubt ? . 

Her. Ha ! 

Sal. I repeat it, 

Can there be any doubt ? She knows too well 
That thou art but her fancy's slave, her toy, 
To brew thee merely love-potions. 

Her. Her slave ? 

I'll make thee slave to her ! So ? I a slave ! 
Thou hast a daring bent o' mind ? Look thou ! 
Unless thou prove this love-brew poisonous. 
Thou shalt in prison rot. As I am Herod, 
I do believe thou'st lied from first to last 
Concerning this affair and all that's touched it. 
Thou art a most accomplished liar. Prove it. 
Or I will make her ten times queen again. 
And brand the hideous story of thy falseness 
With red-hot irons on thy naked flesh. 
Then have thee whipped through every street and by-way 
Of all the towns in Jewry, that all men 
May read of it ! Away, and bring me proof. 
Or look for death in agony unequalled ! [^Exit Salome. 

What if I've been deceived in everything 
From then till now ? 

Enter Mariamne and boys. 

What! Mariamne? 

Mar. Ay. 

Who looks like Mariamne, save herself? 
And these, sir, are her sons. She comes to thank thee — 
She and her sons — for thy last kindness tt') tiiem. 

Her. Wilt thou not sit? Here is a chair. 

Mar. Nay, Herod, 

I'd liave mine eyes at level with thine own ; 
And loving thanks are better prolferetl standing. 

Hit. Wiiy so? 

Mar. 'Tis hard to give thnnks graciously. 

Her. Not when 'tis l\rarininiie thanking IlonKl. 

Mar, More then (han over. 

Her, Sav'st thou ? 



378 HEROD AND MARIAMNE, . 

Mar, Ay, my lord, — 

More then than ever. 

Her, Why, right well thou knowest 

I'm always thankful to be thanked by thee. 
Come, kiss me. For what wouldst thou thank me ? 

Mar, For 

Hyrcanus' death ! Nay, kiss me ! I am sister 
To Aristobulus. Nay, wilt not kiss me ? 
Thy treasurer Joseph loved me. Nay, now kiss me. 
I am the grandchild of Hyrcanus ! 

Her, What ! what ! wilt thou dare ? 

Mar, Then thou'lt not kiss me? Haply 

I am not looking fair enough to-day ? 
I'll have a robe dyed in Hyrcanus' blood. 
And 'broidered richly with the hair of Joseph 
And Aristobulus, to wear withal 
When I would please thee. Come, a kiss, — a kiss. 

Her, Devil ! 

Mar, Or, if that will not pleasure thee, 

I'll make a feast for thee, and in thine honor 
These thy two sons I'll have served up, with blood 
For wine. 

Her, Devil, I say ! 

Mar, Or, if that dish 

Were something coarse for such a mighty king. 
Their hearts alone I'd offer thee. 

Her, God's heart ! 

Dost think I'll let thee live to mock me ? 

Mar, No : 

Killing's thy forte. I pray thee send me, sir, 
To Aristobulus, and Joseph, and Hyrcanus. 
Haply thou hast some tender message, sir. 
That I could bear them ? 'Tis the only errand 
On which for thee I would go willingly. 
Come, send me, — send me. 

Her, Can a man bear this 

And not go mad ? 

Mar, Mad ? Oh, no, thou'rt not mad. 

I'm mad, the time is mad, earth, sea, heaven, hell. 
The past, the future, — but not Herod ! No ! 
He'll stand a monument to sanity 
When for some excellent reason he hath slain 
Everything save his reason ! 

Her, God in heaven ! 

Mar, Nay, God is not in heaven ! If He were there, 
Herod would not be here ! He travels, sir ; 
There's a rebellion on some distant star. 
And He hath gone to quell it. 

Ay, in heaven 
Thou know'st but these three souls, Hyrcanus, Joseph, 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 379 

And Aristobulus. Cry out to them ! 
Cry out to them ! cry out to them ! 

Her, Thou darest? 

Woman ! 

Mar, Ay, — to my woe. The wife of Herod 
Should have by justice been a dragoness, 
Giving birth to monsters that had murdered him, 
Not unto men for him to murder. 

Her, Curse thee ! 

Mar, Curse me, didst say ? — curse me ? Now, as I live, 
May everything that hath on every world 
Since the creation, died, be resurrected 
To curse thee with a separate curse ! Oh, demon, 
Thou'st found the core of sin and eaten it. 
What ! thou wouldst curse me ? Am I not accursed 
Sufficiently in having been thy wife? 
Didst thou not curse me with a curse complete 
When thou didst make me mother of thy sons ? 
Be thou accursed, Herod, ay, accursed. 
Beyond thy utmost knowledge of a curse. 
Forget that I once loved thee. Eecollect 
My hatred only. Thirst, thou shalt have blood. 
And blood alone, to quench thy torment. Hunger, 
Thou shalt not eat, but be thyself devoured. 
Cry out to heaven, and thy prayers rebounding 
Shall hurl thee into hell ; while death to thee 
Shall be one dream of life most horrible ! 

Her, Oh, God ! 

Mar, Ay, tremble ; for He hears not thee, 

While Mariamne^s curse is registered ! [^Exit 

Her, What ! Mariamne ! Mariamne ! Mariamne ! 
Return ! Thou canst not hate me ! No ! no ! no ! 
That's to be mad, — to say that Mariamne 
Hates Herod. And I am not mad. I dreamed. 
Then I am dead ! She said that I would dream 
Of life in death. Who said so? Mariamne? 
No, — one who looked like her. Yet there is none — 
Not one who looks like her, saving herself. 
She said that, too. Her eyes ! her eyes ! her eyes ! 
They were two fires ; they burned into my lieart's core. 
Nay, but my heart's a fire. My iioart? What heart? 
I gave my heart to Mariamne, — yea, 
And she fed anger on it. Well, I'm glad, 
I'm glad, in spite of all, that I'm not mad; 
Else might 1 think all this had rwilly happened ; 
And now I know I'm dreaming. 

Enter Salomk. 

(lood Salome, 
Wake me, I pray you. [/l.s7Jr] Diit that's loolish : ay, 



380 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

She's part and parcel of my dream. — Good sister, 
How come you in my dream ? 

Sal. What ! art thou mad ? 

Hefr, No, — dreaming. 

8aL Why, that's madness on occasion. 

Up ! Rouse ye ! rouse ye ! Here's the potion. — Look I 

Her, Is 't poisonous ? 

Sal Ay. 

Her, Then give it me. 

Sal. For what? 

Her, To drink. 

Sal, Go to ! Why, thou art mad in verity. 

Her. Would that I were ! 

Sal, I say thou art. 

Her, Then once 

Thou bringest me welcome tidings. 

Sal. Brother. 

Her. Well? 

Sal. What is the matter ? 

Her, Why, I'm mad, I hope. 

Thou saidst that I was mad, but then, good sooth. 
Thou art a famous liar lied about. 
But look thou, there's a something in me, jade. 
That whispers madmen may go madder. 

Sal, Sir, 

Rouse ye. Look here : this is the love-potion 
That Mariamne brewed to kill thee. 

Her, Ah! 

Sal, If it be not a poison, I implore 
That thou wilt torture me for pastime. 

Her. How ! — 

To kill me? 

Sal, Ay : who else ? Wake up ! wake up ! 

Her. Why, now, that's right. That is as I would have it. 
I would not longer sleep. 

Sal. Then rouse ye ! Here, 

Take 't in thy hand. There in thy palm thou boldest 
What might have been thy death. 

Her. Poison, thou sayest ? 

Sal, Ay, ay. 

Her, And brewed by Mariamne ? 

Sal, Ay. 

Her, By Mariamne for King Herod ? 

Sal. Ay. 

All this thou knowest. Why wilt question me? 
It is for thee to prove if I speak truth. 

Her. And I will prove thee, monster ! Ay, by heaven I 
The dream is past, and Herod is awake. 
To sleep no more ! — Without, there ! 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 381 

Enter Attendant. 

Send me straightway 
A slave from oat the workers in the vineyard. 
Thou shalt be proved. Fear not : thou shalt be proved, — 
In all, — in all. But then I am not mad, 
If this is not a dream. — So ! thou art come ? 

Enter Attendant and Slave, 

Salome, here's thy proof, — a pretty proof. 
— What is thy age ? 

Boy, A score of years, my lord. 

Her, Dost thou hate life ? 

Boy. No, sire. Why should I hate it ? 

I'm very happy. 

Her, Were 't not better, boy, 

That thou shouldst part with it ere thou dost hate it ? 
Give me thy answer. 

Boy, I know not, my lord. 

Her, I know, and will decide for thee. Drink this. 

Boy. \I)rinks.^ Unto thy health, sire. 

Her, Ha ! 

Boy, Oh, God ! what's this?— 

— Water, I pray you. \^Dics, 

Her, Thou art proved, Salome : — 

Salome, thou art proved ! I will believe thee 
Though thou shouldst say thou never wast a liar ! 
Almost a merry death this would have been. 
It scarce had loosed my crown or stirred my sceptre. 
Look how he's stretched, — as easily, I wager. 
As were he sleeping in the vineyard sunlight. 
I am not sorry that he's dead. No ! no ! 
He might have lived to be a Herod. Ay, 
He might have lived to have a wife. 

Sal. Come, rouse thee ! 

Wilt thou hang thus above a dead slave's body ? 
Away ! 

Her, For what ? 

Sal. For vengeance ! Dost thou ask mo, 

And that thou mightst have been, there at thy foot? 
Away ! to bring the would-be murderess 
To justice. 

Her, No ! let ju.sti(5C go to her ! 

I will not see her more, though wo should live 
A million years witliiu our voices' sound ! 

Sal, Live ! dost thou speak of life as possible 
Unto that demon ? — one who never lovoil thee ? — 
Who made thy love a moans unto hor ends? — 
A traitress? — an adultoross? — Ay, tliou'st said it! 
Almost a murderess, ((uito one in heart? — 
She who seduced thy sister's huslnuul? — she 



382 HEROD AND MARTAMNE. 

Her, Enough ! enough ! thou hast named crimes sufficient 
To make thyself seem holy in comparison ! 

Sal. Sir! 

Her, Oh, be satisfied ; be satisfied : 

She shall not live. 

Sal, Now thou art Herod ! 

Her, No, 

Now I'm a madman ! \Exit, laughing, 

Sal, And now I have conquered ! 

She is already 'prisoned, and I'll follow, 
To see that she doth soon meet death ! [Exit, 

SCENE IV. — A dungeon. Makiamne chained. Two guards^ talking. 

1st Guard, She hath not said a word since I have watched her, 
Nor moved. I have not seen her weep, — not once. 
2d Guard. Believe you all that's said of her ? 
1st Guard. Not I. 

2d Guard. In thine ear, friend : I do suspect foul play. 
1st Guard. Most like. Here comes the sister of the king. 

Enter Salome. 

Sal. Slaves, where's the prisoner ? 

1st Guard. There, madam. 

Sal. Ah ! 

Good-morrow, madam. I do trust your queenship 
Is in all things provided for ? Not so ? 
What ! sulky ? Fie ! fie ! fie ! knit not thy brows. 
I fear thou hast a temper, gentle queen. 
A queen should not indulge in mortal passions. 
And, by the way, if any ill befall thee, 
I know 'twill comfort thee to think thy sons, — 
Thy pretty sons, — Prince Aristobulus, — 
The one who trod upon my robe, — rememberest ? — 
And Alexander, — he who less resembles 
My husband Joseph, — that into my charge 
They will be given. Ha ! have I touched thee, harlot? 
What ! No word yet ? Well, thy blood speaks for thee : 
It ne'er leaped readier to Herod's kisses 
Than it doth to the words of Herod's sister. 
Be honest, now : why didst thou lure my husband 
From loyalty to me and to the king ? 

'Twas madness. Ay, thou mightst have known I'd trace it. 
Come, now ; speak. Tell me. Didst thou truly love him. 
Or was 't mere wantonness ? Nay, do not die. 
Of rage, before thy time, — thy time's so near, 
Ha ! ha ! so near, — so near. Well, of thy sons 
I'll promise thee one thing. 

Mar, What? 

Sal, Ah ! thou speakest ! 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 383 

Thou art not dumb, as I began to fear ? 

I'll promise thee one thing, — but one, though. 

Mar, Well, 

What is it? 

Sal, Patience! patience! 

Mar, What is it? 

Sal. I will not cuff them more than twice a day. 
Ha ! ha ! ha I ha ! Have care, — have care, good girl ! 
Thou'lt die, if thou so giv'st thy fury vent. 

Mar, Joseph ! Joseph ! Joseph ! rise from thy grave 
And blast this devil with thy festering horror ! 
Leap to her arms all headless as thou art, 
And venge my wrongs : I, Mariamne, summon thee. 
Who was and am the Queen of Jewry ! 

Sal Fiend ! 

Mar. [Brealdng loose and seizing Salome.] 
O God ! Make me the tool to venge his murder ! 
Off, cords ! Be brittle as all joy ! Off ! off !— 
Ha ! wilt speak more of cuffing ? 

Sal. Help, there! ho! 

The queen is mad ! Help ! help ! The queen is mad ! 

Mar. One other cry, and thou shalt stand straightway 
Face unto face with thy wronged husband's ghost. 
Ay, presently I mean to send thee to him, 
No matter what thou doest. Dost thou hear me ? 
First cry me pardon, though, — pardon, dost hear ? — 
And then to bloody Joseph ! 

Sal, Hold thy hands ! 

Thou'rt choking me. 

Mar, Presently, — but not yet. 

My pardon. 

Sal. Thou art mad ! Well, pardon, — pardon. 

Now let me go. 

Mar. [Stabbing her.'] Ay, unto Joseph ! So ! 
Know'st thou this dagger ? I return it to thee ! 

Sal, [Swoons.] Oh ! I am killed ! 

Enter Guards. 

Ist Guard. Oh, heaven! what's this? 

2c? Guard. We will he put to death. 

Mark how she bleeds. 

1st Guard. Softly ! she is but wounde<l. 

2d Guard. Did the queen do it ? 

Ist Guard, Ay, she must have. 

2d Guard, Look ! 

She's stiller, sir, than ever. 

\st Guard, Well, — T know not, — 

Mavhnp the princess killed herself. 

id Guard, Soft ! soil ! 

Vol. XLII.-26 



384 HEROD AND MARIA MNE. 

She moves. She is not dead. Come on, sir ; come. 

[^Exeunt, bearing Salome md. 
Mar, [^Staring at the blood left from Salome's wound upon the 
floor.'] 
Why, her blood's red, like any other woman's ! 
I had thought it would be black, — black as her soul, — 
As Herod's. 

Unter Saramallas and Sohemus. 

Sar, Look, friend, how she stares ! 

Soh, In truth, 

There's something here What ! blood ? Look, Saramallas ! 

Sar, 'Tis blood, assuredly. Look to the queen : 
She may have stabbed herself. 

Soh, Would God she had! 

Sar. Ay, Sohemus, Amen with all my heart. 
Was his command to kill her final ? 

Soh. Final. 

Sar. And must she die? Is there no way? — not one? 

Soh. Thoa knowest well that I would die to save her. 

Sar. And thou'rt to take a napkin to the king 
Dipped in her blood ? 

Soh. Oh, speak not of it, man ! 

I love my mistress, and would kill ten Herods 
Rather than look to see one single hair 
Of her bright head disturbed. 

Sar. Well, 't must be done. — 
Your majesty, the Sanhedrim 

Mar. I know, 

I know, good Saramallas. — Sohemus, 
Good-morrow. It is well. I care not now. 
She's dead : my sons are safe. Thou, Sohemus, 
Protect them all that's in thy power from Cypros. 
Yet I do not much fear her, now the power 
That urged her is subdued. Good Sohemus, 
Cypros without Salome is a hell 
Without a devil. See they say their prayers. 
And do not break the Sabbath with their games. 
And letter-cutting on the lintels. Nay, 
Thou wast a boy, and know how boys will do it, — 
Even the gentlest. — Well, I'm ready. Come. 

Soh. Oh, mistress well beloved and always loving, 
Thou knowest that I'd rather suffer death 
Ten thousand times than see thee even unhappy. 

Mar. Yea, friend, even so. But once to suffer death 
Is nevermore to suffer anything. 
Therefore rejoice with me, whose not-long life 
Hath been so full of pain, I would not purchase 
Another day of life were 't purchasable 
For the mere asking. I will bear thy lov^e 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 385 

To Joseph. Nay, no tears, good Sohemus. 

Mine eyes are dry as are these breasts of mine. 

Which once did nourish princes. Cease, I pray thee. 

I'll walk alone, a queen unto the last. [Exit 

SCENE Y.— Enter Hebod. 

What ! she prepare a poison for me ! Oh, 

Foul ! foul ! She, Mariamne ? — she, my queen ? 

]N'ay, she was Joseph's wanton, not my queen. 

Was not that vile ? But thus to seek my life, — 

That's viler. No, not that : to slay my honor, — 

That was more vile. And yet she might have known it, — 

That I would pardon her. But she must die, — 

She must die now. Die ? Mariamne ? Nay, 

He who doth spill a drop of her rare blood 

Shall kill his best-belov6d for my pleasure 

Upon a holiday ! What ! die? Her lips, 

That I so oft have kissed, to rot i' th' tomb 

Like any beggar's? What ! an end of all? 

All our soft hours, our million-pleasured years, — 

Even our quarrelling ? And yet, and yet, — 

She plotted for my death. Soft! is that sure? 

Soft, soft, — Salome ! But I sfiw him die — 

Die, with these very eyes. Oh, God ! I care not : 

One kiss would make a thousand deaths seem easy, 

And there's no poison like to fruitless yearning ! 

I care not what she purposed, I'll forgive her, — 

I will forgive her, and be writ forever 

Herod the happy fool of Mariamne ! 

Ay, ay, a happy fool is wise in all things 

Above the sourest knowledge-wrinkled seer 

That scoffs at him ! Yes, yes, I will forgive her, 

And teach her not to hate me. [Enter Sohemus.] 

Ay, sir, thou, — 
Thou art the very man I seek. Good Sohemus, 
Attend. I did speak rashly to thee, friend, 
Some moments past. 

Soh. Rashly, my lord ? 

Her. Ay, Sohemus. 

There is a burning here doth sometimes urge me 
To violence whose half I do not mean. 
I gave thee orders which I would retract, — 
I would retract. 

Soh, For God's sake, Herod, s]H\ik ! 

Her, Why, what's the matter? Hero, sir! wouldst thou 
swoon ? 
What is the matter? I would have the quei^n 
Set free again. Dost hear? 

Soh. The (juoen is free. 



386 HEROD AND MARIA MNE. 

Ay, Herod, she hath soared beyond thy reach 
Forever. Here's the kerchief thou cominanded'st 
That I should dip in her warm blood. 

Her, Thou liest ! 

What ! dost thou dare to show me that vile rag 
And say 'tis stained with Mariamne's blood ? 

Soh. Ay, Herod : I have but obeyed thy order. 

Her, Dog, thou dost lie ! Who put thee to this trick? 
Where is Salome ? She hath hired thee to it. 
Speak, sir ! Where is she ? 

Soh. Wounded unto death. 

The poor queen, frenzied by her coward taunts, 
Did burst her bonds and stab her nigh to death. 

Her, The poor queen ? What poor queen ? What dost thou 
hint? 
Dost dare speak thus of Mariamne ? Go ! 
Bid her unto me. Bid her here, I say. 
Away ! 

Soh. Nay, Herod, be convinced. Thy queen 
No longer lives : that blood is hers indeed, 
And I the most unhappy man on earth ! 

Her, Dost thou dare say thou art, when Herod's here? 
Thou most unhappy ? Thou ? O dog, dog, dog ! 
Would thou hadst twenty lives, that I might take them 
Each in a different way ! She's dead, thou say'st ? 
And that's her blood ? Back to her with this message :] 
*' My chief fault was obedience ; and Herod, 
Being a madman, killed me for obeying." 

[^Runs SoHEMUS through with Ms sword. 

Soh, I'm glad to go to her. Thou hast done well. [Dies. 

Her. That Mariamne's blood ? Oh, God ! let redness 
Possess the earth, the heavens forswear their blue, 
The sea its green ! ay, let the very stars 
Put on her color, and burn bloodily 
To do her honor ! I will build a pyramid 
Unto her memory, and its littlest stone 
Shall twice outsize Cheops' entirety ; 
While for a mortar I will mix the dust 
Of emperors dead with blood of living kings ! 
To work ! to work ! for earth's foundation-stone 
Must be the first in the tremendous pile ! \^ExU madly. 

Enter two or three attendants^ running, 

1st Att, Was 't not the king? 

2d Aft. I'm sure I heard him. 

3d Att. Ay, 

And so am I ; but he's not here. Look there ! 
Is 't not Lord Sohemus ? 

Ist Att. Ay, — dead, I think. 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 387 

Id Att. Alas I alas ! He had the kindest heart 
In all of Jewry. 

1st Att. So he had ; and heaven 

Now hath his soul. Let's bear him hence. Come on. 

\_Exeunt, bearing the body of Sohemus. 



SCENE VI. — Another part of the palace. 
Enter Herod and Alexander. 

Her, Boy, where's thy mother ? Where's thy mother, boy ? 
Speak, boy : I will not hurt thee. Look, I'm gentle, — 
I am not angry. Look, I'll throw my sword 
After my crown. Thou seest I recollect it, — 
Thy insolent waggery, — ha ! ha ! — and yet am gentle. 
Thou seest ? Come, then, my pretty prince. Look liere : 
This ring for thee. Now tell me, where's thy mother ? 

Alex, In heaven, w^here thou'lt never be, vile king. 
Call me no more sweet names ; for I do hate thee ! — 
Hate thee ! — hate thee ! 

Her, What's that, thou devil ? Ha ! 

She taught thee that. 

Alex. She never taught me anything 

But what was good ; nor could I teach myself 
A better way of honoring her memory 
Than by abhorring thee ! 

Her, Devil ! 

Alex, I tell thee, 

Thou'lt be thrice damned, if after killing her 
Thou seek'st to kill her honor ! Slay me ! do ! 
I'm not afraid. Thou'st thrown away thy sword ; 
Then take thy hands. I ask no more, by heaven. 
Than to be sent to her ! — Oh, mother ! mother ! 

Her. Where is she, then? Where is she? Tell me that, 
And thou shalt go to her. Don't wee]) ; don't weep. 
Look, I am sorry if I called thee devil. 
Look, — for thou'lt see what no man saw ere this, — 
Herod a jiardon-begirar. Look, — I'm sorry. 

Alex. Go beg of God ; for I have naught to give tliee 
Save only hate. [^ExU. 

Her. Now know I thou'rt his son I 

No ! no ! no ! no I I did not moan it ! Oh, 
Keturn, return, my son, my Alexander, 
My son and hers ! Or if tluit thou dost hate me, 
]^(i a dear hypocrite, and feign to love mo ! 
Wliat's that, tliongh ? Soil! if one may foign to love, 
May not one feign to hati;? Might sho not so? 
She (loth not hato mo: no, sho hath but foigninl it,— 
This hatred, — that I may her lovo more value 
When she confos.'tHis it. — Without, there ! ho ! 



388 HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 

Enter Attendants. 

Sirs, — bid the queen at once attend me. Quick ! 

Why do ye stand there as though death had gripped ye? 

Summon the queen at once ! 

Att. What queen, my lord ? 

Her. What queen, dog? Wilt thou give me back my words? 
What queen? Know that there is one only queen 
In Herod^s catalogue. Call Mariamne, 
The Queen of Jewry ; bid her come to me 
Here o' the instant. Oh, away with ye ! 

[Exeunt Attendants. 
Now shall all nights to this night be as leaves 
From Wisdom's tree, unto its golden fruit, — 
As sparks to stars, — as stars unto God's crown ! 
Let some new God be born to conquer heaven, 
Dethrone Jehovah, and create new worlds 
For that prince who shall some day live as proof 
Of this night's wonder. Mariamne, come ! 
I'll shake the stars from out their blackened sockets 
To light our bridal bed ; the choir of heaven 
Shall chant us to our sleep ; and for thy coverlet 
Thou shalt the mantle of God's glory. Shout, 
Ye tempest-riding spirits ; earth, give voice ; 
Resound, ye forests, like to harps ; let ocean 
Her cymbal-clashing waves send unto heaven 
And sweep down echo from the halls of Zeus ! 
Yea, let hell on the forehead of this night 
Be bound as torch to light our ecstasy ! 

Be-enter Attendants. 

So, sirs ! Where is the queen ? 

Att. Thou must know, sire 

Her. Must know ? Is that an answer for thy king ? 
Call me Queen Mariamne from the doors. 
Call her, I say. 

Att. Oh, sire, the queen is dead. 

She was beheaded full an hour ago. 

Her. Damned be thy lying tongue ! Away ! away ! 
Or I will go myself to summon her ! \_Exit Attendants^ 
Beheaded ? Mariamne ? There was blood, — 
Ay, there was blood, — but there's no sign in that. 
A lamb's blood might stand proxy for a queen's. 
And no one know the difference. Dead ? Dead ? 
AVere God to say it, I'd cry God a liar ! 
Stay ! something comes to me, — something comes back. 

I did commission Sohcmus The napkin 

Oh, God ! it was lier blood, and she is dead ! 
O Mariamne, Mariamne, Mariamne ! 
What am I who have slain thee? Lucifer 



HEROD AND MARIAMNE. 339 

Is holy unto Herod, for in truth 

He was sin's victim, I the king of vice ! 

Beheaded ? God ! was there no other way 

But death must roll that proud head on the ground 

As children roll a ball ? What ! do I live, 

And Mariamne dead ? What ! am I Herod, 

And Mariamne slain at my command ? — 

That Herod whom men call the Great ? Just God ! 

Herod the Great ? Ay ! Herod the great in sin ! 

[_Falls forward on his face, 

Amilie Hives, 



THE END. 



390 ^ ^^^^ MORE WORDS ABOUT MISS RIVES. 



A FEW 3I0BE WORDS ABOUT MISS RIVES. 

IN literature, as in life, the candor of innocence is sometimes mistaken 
for that of intentional impurity. But our deception with regard 
to it is apt to be very short-lived, and is usually resultant from our 
own blunt or languid vision. I confess that a second reading of Miss 
Rives's remarkable story " The Quick or the Dead f^ has made it evi- 
dent to me just where the cause of the whole misunderstanding has 
lain ; for there seems to be no doubt that in this work she has offended 
the tastes of readers whom her " Farrier Lass o' Piping Pebworth" 
and other tales of a like beauty and freshness had forcibly charmed. 
Miss Rives has steeped a love-story in realism, acted on by some 
peculiar force of her time, without stopping to consider what dangers, 
with a writer of her strongly romantic trend, must surround any such 
literary exploit, unless a good deal of discriminative caution be made to 
accompany it. But caution of this kind does not usually consort with 
authors of youth and inexperience. Had Miss Rives been commencing 
her career as a novelist about a half-century ago, she would have 
painted the episodes between Barbara and her lover in hues that no one 
would have found too glaring. But being inevitably a child of the 
period, she has told a modern story in the modern manner. Now, as 
it chanced, she had an extremely diflficult story for a young writer to 
tell. It was one which George Sand would have delighted to deal with 
in French ; it involved the question as to just how far human love is a 
physical magnetism and just how far it is an attraction of that finer 
and subtler sort which even materialists, for want of a better descriptive 
term, must call " spiritual." This whole donn^e is one of surpassing 
dramatic interest, and worthy to be treated by the greatest writers of 
fiction. Still, the appeal is constantly being made to Barbara through 
those fleshly qualities possessed by the man who so marvellously re- 
sembles her adored dead husband. Early in the work it is said of the 
heroine, on her first meeting with this extraordinary counterfeit present- 
ment, " She began to think that she was in a dream, — the figure, the 
step, the pose, were so identically her husband's ; but the greatest shock 
of all was when he spoke." In the very next line we learn that when 
he did speak "the voice was YaPs voice." This living likeness of 
Barbara's husband is his cousin, and claims promptly a cousin's inti- 
mate privileges. They two are incessantly alone together in a great 
old Virginian homestead. He is filled with youthful vigor and fire, 
and almost hourly finds himself growing more and more in love with 
his kinsman's widow. She is a woman whose temperament has an al- 
most tropical ardor, and whom we can imagine performing scarcely a 
single act in life without giving it the florid hues of her own rather 
theatric personality. Miss Rives means her for a very emotional being, 
and so she is ; but her mentality is limited in an unfortunate degree, 
considering the numerous tempting opportunities with which she is 
presented by her creator for behaving in a silly fashion, and which she 
constantly embraces. 



A FEW MORE WORDS ABOUT MISS RIVES. 39I 

Apart, however, from. Barbara's intelligence or lack of it, she has 
been prostrated by a fierce bereavement only to discover in John 
Dering's love a possible consolation for the treasured companionship 
that she has lost. Later along in the tale she becomes convinced that 
his bodily resemblance to Valentine Pom fret will not serve ; it is a 
broken reed on which to lean the weight of her own bruised existence. 
But in Barbara's gradual realization of this melancholy truth do we 
trace both the circumference and diameter of a most unique achieve- 
ment. Here lies the entire little history ; and an infusion of the real- 
istic method into those elements whose character I have sought to define 
was likely, unless directed by the hand of an adept, to produce highly in- 
flammatory consequences. Indeed, ^' The Quick or the Dead V would 
be, just as it stands, a valuable weapon in the hands of all confirmed 
anti-realists. " Here," they might cry, " is what comes of giving the 
reader too many minute details. When the subject is ordinary life 
they become paltry ; when it is sexual passion they become salacious." 
Surely realism, to preserve consistency with its own tenets, never should 
shrink from details, no matter what may be its chosen theme. Between 
it and the naturalism of Zola there is no difference whatever except one 
of degree. Our American realists either fastidiously draw a line at 
" objectionable" disclosures or else restrain the excursional tendencies 
of their pens because the market which purchases their literary wares 
will refuse them if too careless a frankness be cultivated. It is in my 
memory that more than once an American writer of repute has said to 
me, "I would like to write fearlessly and with no gingerly conceal- 
ments about my fiction ; I regret being compelled not to call a spade a 
spade; I feel the cry of ^immorality' waiting for me, and hence I 
must repress an instinct to treat life as I see it and judge it, for the 
reason that if I do so I will meet a frowning publisher and perchance 
a still more frowning public." It has been the present essayist's good 
fortune to meet not a few writers of fiction in this country whose names 
are more or less distinguished as experts in their charming craft, aud 
he can scarcely recall a single instance among these makers of novels 
and plays where the earnest craving was not evident for greater latitude 
in the discussion of matters which are often far too avidly gloated over 
by the French, but which assert, notwithstanding, a distinct claim to be 
treated rationally by more temperate chroniclers. 

In the case of Miss Rives, however, I am reluctant to state that 
she has written with any deliberated observance of this or that school. 
She had doubtless read a large number of modern novels and w;us in- 
fluenced by that prevailing /o/-oe imtjcurc which few of them have 
escaped. When a story-teller of her clime aud tongue intentionally 
tries to "shock" the community, he is apt to reveal n hanlness, a })ert 
abandonment, a kind of saucy laxity which kills interests in his ivadei*s 
as surely as if he had committed some overt act of vulgar revolt ai!:ainst 
the decencies. In "The Quick or the Dead?" this prcnunlitatcd spirit 
of mischief everywhere seems curiously absiMit. At timt\s there are 
both extravagance and crudity in the narration, but these traits, ivgiTt- 
table though they must be declared, are inanifeste<i with a luutrt^ that 
often provokes a smile at their freedom from all operatctl, self-conscious 



392 A FEW MORE WORDS ABOUT MISS RIVES. 

effect and their positive childishness in the way of record and delivery. 
When, for example, after her absurdly particularized tussle with the 
hero to retain a locket which she has snatched from him, it is related 
of Barbara that while kneeling near her late contestant on the rug in 
front of the fireplace she felt her own " breath returned upon her face 
from Bering's trousers," we smile at the really juvenile simplicity 
which could present such a bit of spontaneous bathos instead of the 
winsome artistic touch we might have expected. For Miss Rives has 
already shown us that she can surprise and charm by the deft use of 
phrase and simile ; she has shown it only a page or so further back in 
her story, where the rape of the locket is about to occur : 

" It was on a bitterly cold, gray afternoon in November that these 
two comrades, as they now called themselves, were engaged in a game 
of 'graces' in the large central hall at Rosemary. The earlier day 
had been tempestuous and clattering with wind-whirled sleet, but a 
tawny cloud, that in streaming wildness resembled, perhaps, the flying 
mane of one of the Prophet's fiery steeds when in mid-heaven, now 
streaked all the upper sky and sent a gold-red light glowing in at the 
hall-windows. There were eight of these tall, shrouded shapes, like 
uncanny mummies, and where the faces should have been, that furnace- 
like radiance shone through folds of sheer muslin. . . . The figures of 
Barbara and Dering were revealed, as they swooped among the shadows 
here and there, which glittered as with mica. Now the rathe arm and 
throat of Barbara came into relief against the dusky formlessness, now 
it was Bering's gay crest of curls and straining shoulders. The orange- 
ribboned hoops circled above, like two haloes uncertain as to which of 
those handsome heads they were to saint." 

This may not be very accurate or painstaking writing, but it is 
certainly very excellent "impressionism." It leaves a picture which 
would probably not stay in our recollection as long as it is fated to do 
were the workmanship less fervid, tumultuous, and heartfelt. And so, 
again and again throughout the book, we come upon passages betraying 
the same immaturity and yet an equal fascination. There is humor, 
too, and of a pungent quality. Nothing can be better in its way than 
the despair of the lovers over Mr. Buzzy's quaint and maddening 
garrulity as he is driven in their company to the station. They want 
to whisper sweet nothings in one another's ears — to sit with clasped 
hands — to be left unmolested there in the back of the lumbering vehicle 
during those few moments of intercourse which remain for them. But 
Mr. Buzzy, impervious as regards all hints, rambles on, to the semi- 
distraction of his hearers. Afterward, in the station itself, when this 
implacable fellow-passenger continues his tortures, Dering suddenly 
jumps up with frenzy and cries, " I have something of importance to 
say to Mrs. Pom fret, and I have now only thirteen minutes in which 
to say it. Could you be so very kind as to leave us together?" But, 
as the author remarks, if Dering had thought to freeze Buzzy by this 
frigid and biting address, he was vastly mistaken. The grinning, 
illiterate, boorish, but indestructibly good-natural creature at once con- 
sents to leave the waiting-room of the station, but not before he has 
responded, " Cert'n'y, — cert'n'y. . . Why didn't you tip me the wink ? 



A FEW MORE WORDS ABOUT MISS RIVES. 393 

I'd er twigged. Reckon I'll go and git a snack." And then at last 
he goes. 

" Buzzy" is apparently a triumph in the way of type-sketching. I 
am not prepared to state this positively, however, being unfamiliar with 
the region of which he seems a product. But he is most probably 
drawn with great correctness, for the whole key-note of the book is 
realism of a most unswerving fidelity. 

In mentioning " Buzzy '^ I am reminded that his vernacular is 
never in the least fatiguing; there is just enough of it to make us want 
a little more, and in our age of dialectic surfeit that is surely a lauda- 
tory admission. Indeed, I think Miss E-ives deserves the warm thanks 
of numberless readers who have had page after page of dissolute col- 
loquial syntax thrust upon them by other Southern writers, and by not 
a few Western writers also, during the past decade. I am loath to 
believe that such novels create any save a lukewarm local interest. 
Negro and " hoosier" dialects have filled our magazines until there no 
longer seems to be common-sense in believing that weariness has not 
followed them. There is a kind of novel produced nowadays in which 
it would appear as if everything were fine except the English of the 
characters. Nature so far transcends human nature in what one might 
almost call a patrician excellence of deportment that we read on the 
one hand of delicate mists curling ethereally along mountain-sides, of 
prismatic sunsets, of valleys empurpled by twilight, and on the other 
hand encounter the whole English grammar in about as unpleasant a 
state of corruption as possible. We are reminded of the hymn-book, 
with its description of enchanting scenes in which " only man is vile •/' 
our compassion and sense of justice alike are stirred by seeing the 
meadows and hills and trees and birds all getting along so beautifully, 
while such disastrous things are forever happemng to the verb "to be.'' 
Happily, Miss Rives rids us of all anxiety on this latter point. I am 
afraid few of us realize just how exceptional it is to come across a 
Virginia novel that does not teem with negro-jargon from the first 
chai)ter to the last. 

Dialect Miss Rives has employed in some of her shorter stories, 
however, though it is there far from being of the tiresome order. 
"The Farrier Lass o' Piping Pebwortli," an excessively romantic 
tale of Queen Elizabeth's time, strikes a few false notes amid a 
general scheme of harmonious consistency. These are in giving the 
narrator, Humfrey Lemon, unnaturally elaborated expressions and sen- 
timents, considering his unlettered condition. To make such a person 
say, for example, "He had eyes like pools o' water unikv** a night 
heaven, wherein two stars have drowned themselves, as 'twere, and 
brows as black and straight as a sweep o' cloud across an evening yky," 
may Ixi thoroughly poetic, but is misplaced as an utterance supposcil to 
issue from uneducated lips. For like reasons a sentence delivered bv 
the same irumfrey Lemon will not jissiniilate with the prevailing tone 
of his homespun rustic monologue: "Also a nnl eame into her 
shadowy cheeks, lik(^ as thongli a scarlet flower tossed into a clear 
brown stream shoiiid rise slowly upward beneath the limpid surface 
and shine a-through." For a tippling peasimt to address an ale-house 



394 ^^^ FADED PANSY, 

companion in these terms cannot but place such portions of Miss Rives's 
prose on a level with Ouida's worst errors in the line of overdrawing 
and hyperbole. They prepare the reader but ill for bits as good as, 
*' She was that brown, a bun looked pale i' th' comparison when she 
did lift it to her mouth to eat it ;" or for, " * An thou tell it, the more 
fool thou,' saith she ; and a draws up her red lips into a circle as though 
a'd had a draw-string in 'em, and a stands and looks at him as a used 
to stand and look at her dam when she chid her for a romp/' The 
attempted wooing of the " farrier lass'' by Sir Dagonet Balfour, with 
Keren's haughty rejection of this high-born gallant because of a pre- 
vious unconquered attachment, has in it almost the airy, happy-go-lucky 
prettiness of old folk-lore. Yet it suits the Elizabethan atmosphere 
which encompasses the incidents, and is altogether as different from the 
realistic modernity of "The Quick or the Dead?" as an ivy-grown, 
mullion-paned window is different from a plate-glass one of to-day. 
Miss Rives's turn for the telling of archaic tales is an impulse to be 
commended. It is easy to pick flaws in the exactitude of her archae- 
ology, but, after all, she is plainly equipped as regards this form of 
flexible and practicable scholarship beyond the suggested powers of her 
most industrious detractors. 

It has been my privilege to examine some of the advance-sheets of 
" Herod and Mariamne," and I find it a tragedy of uneven yet often 
astonishing vigor. Like almost everything which its gifted creator 
has thus far accomplished, it exhibits, I should say, more of fecund 
promise than of sterling accomplishment. Its gloom is unrelieved by 
any play of humor, — a criticism which can by no means be passed on 
such other work of hers as I have thus far seen. The character of 
Herod is too unrelievedly ferocious and lurid. Mariamne is more 
successful ; Miss Rives can always draw women more firmly and satis- 
factorily than she can draw men, — an evidence, I think, that she " looks 
into her heart and writes," and that longer life and ampler observation 
will fortify her distinct literary aptitudes. I should call "Herod and 
Mariamne" the dramatic effort of a beginner; but it contains lines 
which insist on being recollected, and it bespeaks, throughout the whole 
richly-passionate scope of its composition, that same inherent vitality 
of organism which has already set her so high among our younger 
competitors for secure distinction in the noble art of letters. 

Edgar Fawcett. 



THE FADED PANSY, 



MY garden-beds are sweet with bloom ; 
Each flower its pride uprears ; 
But this faded pansy's faint perfume 
Has drenched my eyes with tears. 

Curtis Hall, 



WITH GAUGE ^ SWALLOW. 395 

WITH GAUGE dc SWALLOW* 

Vn. — ^A CONFLICT BETWEEN CHTJECH AND STATE. 

« "[TIN I^it ter see Mr. Swaller ?" 

xV This inquiry came from a tall, lean man, clad in wool jeans 
and carrying a wide, soft-brimmed hat in his hand which rested on the 
railing by my desk. His face had a curious pinched expression, and 
the tobacco he was masticating had left a yellowish stain about the 
corners of his mouth and in the dull-grayish beard that straggled over 
his face. He had a subdued, almost furtive look, though his blue eyes 
were not without a gleam of shrewdness. He had wandered in and 
come to a halt near my desk, apparently because no one opposed his 
progress, asked him any questions, or seemed likely to do so. 

"What is the name, sir?^' I asked, smartly. 

" 'Tain't no matter 'bout the name," he answered. " The Gunnel 
never seed me, ner hearn tell o' me nuther, I don't s'pose. Ef I could 
jes' see him a minit 'twould be all I'd keer fer." 

" If you will tell me your business," I said, patronizingly, " I will 
ascertain if he is able to see you. He is a very busy man." 

" So I s'pose," said the stranger, deliberately expectorating on the 
carpet. " An' that's jes' what I was afeerd on. I tole Blah there 
wa'n't no sort uv use er tryin' ter git one o' these high-flyin' New- 
Yawkers ter so much ez look at his case. I reckon he must make a 
heap uv money," he added, inquiringly, as he glanced sharply about 
the office. 

" Gauge & Swallow are pretty high-priced," I answered, feeling to 
the full the reflected glory of my employers' position. 

" Wouldn't look at a case under a thousan' dollars, I reckon." 

" They are not apt to engage in unremunerative labor." I smiled 
as I wondered what he would think of some of the fees they had 
received. 

" Jes' what I tole Biah," said the stranger. " An' he hain't got no 
thousan' dollars ter spare, ner I nuther, — more's the pity. Ef I he^l, 
Biah should hev it, kase he certin hev been badly used, — badly used. 
I don't pertend ter justify everythin' he's done, — by no manner uv 
means, — " the man expectorated with judicial severity and elViisiveness 
before proceeding, — " but when a man hev repented an' done all that 
lay in his power ter comply with the laws uv God an' man, then tor 
jump on him an' tronip him down in the mire, jes' kase he happens tor 
be pore, that ain't right ner jestice. Is it, now, mister?" 

I admitted that su(;h conduct did not seem to be exactly in conso- 
nance Avith the princij)los of universal e(juity. 

" Edzactly,— 'zactly. Wal, that's IVmWs case. Hit don't seem 
right, nohow ; but his lawyer tells him thar ain't no chanoo fer him ter 

• Copyright, 1888, by E. K. TounoBB. 



396 WITH GAUGE ^ SWALLOW, 

git clar 'cept by an appeal er sunthin' uv that sort ter the Supreme 
Court et Washington. Yer see, they found Biah guilty, the jury did ; 
an' the jedge he stood by the jury ; an' the Supreme Court down ter 
Richmon', they stood by him. Now, Lawyer Perrin says — an' he's a 
right sharp sort uv a man, too — that there ain't no way ter git out on't 
'cept by appeal ter the Supremest Court uv all in Washin'ton. An' ez 
thet 'ud likely take 'bout all he's got left, yer see, he advises Biah — an' 
I does the same when I hearn how 'twas — not ter make enny mo' fuss 
'bout the matter, but jes' go 'long an' surve out his time ^n' be done 
with it. But Biah's sot, — awful sot, mister, — an' he 'lows he hain't 
done no wrong in the sight uv God ner man, — in the way he's accused 
uv, at least, — an' he ain't gwine ter submit ter sech imposition jes' fer 
tryin' ter do what's right. So, he 'lowed ez I should come hyer an' 
see ef I couldn't git Mr. S waller ter ondertake his case fer him ; an' ef 
I could, he'd jes' carry hit on up ter Washin'ton, ef it tuk the las' cent 
hehed." 

" Biah is your brother, I think you said ?" 

" Co'se, co'se : what ud I be here fer ef he warn't ? Biah Wilkins, 
uv Pittsylvany, suh, an' ez respectable a man ez ever lived in the 
county, too, ef he is pore an' in jail this minnit, ef they heven't tuk 
him ter the State prison, though I do say it ez oughtn't, bein' his 
brother." 

" What's the cause of your brother's difficulty ?" 

" That's jes' what I kem on ter tell Mr. S waller, ef so be ez I kin 
git speech with him fer a leetle while. An' Biah he sez ef I kin once 
git this yere letter inter his hands, he's jes' boun' ter see me, even ef he 
don't do nothin' mo'. Biah 'lows 't a gre't lawyer like Mr. Swaller's 
boun' ter know a heap mo'n a little un like Mr. Perrin, not ter speak 
disrespeckfully uv Mr. Perrin, who certain hev stuck by Biah like a 
man." 

He dropped his hat on the floor, and, after some search, drew from 
his pocket a letter, which he held towards me. 

" Oh, if you have a letter of introduction, Mr. Swallow will see 
you, of course," I replied, cheerfully. " Have a seat, sir, and I will 
take it to him." 

" Thank ye : I don't keer ef I do," responded the stranger, sinking 
into the chair I pushed towards him and drawing his hat carelessly 
beside him so that the brim rested on the rung. " Tain't no letter uv 
interduction, though ; hit's one uv his, — Mr. Swaller's, ye know, — one 
he writ ter Biah. Ef ye'd jes' be kin' 'nuif ter han' it ter him an' say 
ef he's not too busy I'd like a word with him." 

His language was apologetic, but his tone was confident rather than 
supplicating. 

I took the letter, went to Mr. Swallow's room, and handed it to 
him, stating the request the stranger made. The Junior does not like 
to be interrupted when he is at work, and he was working very hard 
that day preparing his celebrated argument in the " Peterhoff Admiralty 
Case," — in which our fee, by the way, was twenty thousand dollars, with 
about ten thousand dollars more granted for allowances, disburse- 
ments, etc. 



WITH GAUGE # SWALLOW. 397 

He drew down his brows as he took the soiled envelope, and, merely 
glancing at the superscription, drew forth the letter and ran over its 
contents. A single glance transformed him. 

" Where is he ? Bring him here !'' he exclaimed, excitedly. " No, 
I will go with you. Time? I should like to know anything that 
would prevent my having time for Abiah Wilkins^s aifairs !" 

He followed me out, and literally fell upon the neck of the uncouth 
Southerner, as if he found it impossible otherwise to express his gratifi- 
cation. 

" Why, Mr. Wilkins ! what an unexpected pleasure ! I hardly 
thought, when I wrote this letter almost twenty years ago, that I 
should ever have the pleasure of welcoming you to New York and 
personally showing my gratitude for your kindness to — to " 

Mr. Swallow choked at the word, and, while he wrung the stranger's 
hand, dropped the letter, and, drawing forth his handkerchief, began to 
wipe away the tears that were flowing down his cheeks. I looked on 
in amazement, and could see that the clerks were glancing shyly towards 
us, as surprised as I at this display of emotion. 

*^ Naw," said the stranger, disengaging himself from this embrace, 
" I'm 'bleeged to ye all the same, Mr. S waller, an' glad ter make yer 
acquaintance, but I ain't Biah, — only his brother John. Ef I'd been 
in his case, I don't s'pose ye'd been half ez glad ter see me. Not but 
what he done jes' right, more 'spechuUy ez things turned out, but most 
on us don't allers know jes' what is the right thing ter do at the time 
quite ez well ez we do atterwards. Biah's a pore man, an' hain't got 
much larnin' ; but he hez his own notions 'bout what's right, an' when 
he's once made up his mind, 'tain't noways easy ter turn him from 'em. 
That's why he's in trouble now." 

"In trouble? If there is anything I can do " The Junior's 

tone told the rest. 

-"Ef it won't be askin' too much, Mr. Swaller," said the other, 
hesitantly. 

" As if Abiah Wilkins could ever ask too much from me !" 

" That's jes' what Biah said," responded the other, with a smile of 
satisfaction. " He 'lowed the man ez writ that letter meant every word 
he said. I tole him mos' likely you'd forgot " 

" One never forgets some things," interrupted Mr. Swallow, re- 
proachfully. 

" Wal, sho' enuff," said the countryman, as he picked up his hat and 
stood revolving it constrainedly on the forefinger of his loft hand. " I 
wanted ye to know, though, I'm doin' this only for Biah's sake. I hain't 
got no right ter claim anythin' on my own account. Ef I'd hev known 
what was goin' on up ter the hill-place, I don't 'low I'd hev 'provctl 
on't, thet's the truth ; but Jiiah done it, an' now he's in trouble. I've 
done all I kin for him, an' only je.s' kern on hyer kase ho 'poartnl ter hev 
sot his head on't thet you would either holp him or tell him 'twa'n't no 
use ter try an' do nothin' mo'." 

"Well, come and tell me all about it," said Mr. Swallow, putting 
his hand almost affectionately in the. arm of the awkwuixl stranger and 
leading him towards his private room. His lashes were still wet with 



398 WITH GAUGE ^ SWALLOW. 

tears, and as the door closed behind them every eye was turned upon 
Burrill as the chartered depository of the secrets of the firm ; but the old 
man only shook his head, to intimate that his surprise was as great as 
ours. 

It was as a result of this incident that I became familiar with the 
circumstances of the case entitled 

IN THE SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES. 
Abiah Wilkins and Elena WILKINS^ 



Error to the Supreme Court of 
( Virginia. 

The Commonwealth of Vieginia. 



A 



Abiah Wilkins was one of those who responded to the first call of 
the Confederacy for men to support the claim of the new republic to a 
place in the family of nations. He was a young man, hardly twenty 
years old, and felt ashamed to stay at home while others were in the 
army fighting his battles. He was one of a class whom it is the habit 
of many profound thinkers to declare were wheedled or forced into the 
army of the South, because we are told that the success of the Con- 
federacy would have been inimical to their interests. If self-interest 
were the only motive which governs the action of peoples, or the meas- 
ure of self-interest were always the same, this conclusion might be a 
correct one. That there is some weak point in the reasoning by which 
it is supported, however, is evident from the fact that such men com- 
posed the bulk of the Confederate army, and that a people can neither 
be led nor driven except in the direction of their own desires. It is no 
doubt true that slavery was a hard master to the non-slaveholding white 
man of the South ; but it is also true that he did not feel himself op- 
pressed, and did not realize that he was deprived of any right or privi- 
lege. He had just as good an opportunity as his fellows ; and they are 
not the only people who have mistaken equal opportunity for the ultima 
Thule of civic right. 

Though Abiah Wilkins was of what is known as the "poor- 
white" class, he was not lacking in independence or knowledge of his 
own preferences. His father had been a thrifty and capable overseer, 
whose services were always in demand at a good salary. Contrary to 
the usual Northern idea of those in his station, he was one of the most 
independent and self-respecting of men. Of profound religious con- 
viction and blameless life, he was just, though severe, with those under 
his charge, and allowed no intermeddling with his functions on the part 
of the owner or any one else. If at the end of the year the owner were 
dissatisfied, he could employ another in his place ; but during that time 
there was no appeal from his judgment, and must be no interference 
with his plans. Though only a salaried foreman, he felt himself re- 
sponsible for results, and had a reputation which he would not suffer 
to be imperilled by limitation of his judgment. His boast was that 
he could " raise more barrels of corn and a greater value of tobacco on 
fewer acres, with less stock and less labor, and leave the land, stock, 
and ^ niggers' in better condition at the end of the year, than any other 
man on the Dan." This was not a vain boast nor an unworthy one, 



WITH GAUGE ^ SWALLOW. 399 

but a self-respecting assertion of thorough agricultural knowledge and 
high administrative capacity. 

He had one ambition, — to start his two boys in life as their own 
masters. He wished them to belong to the universally-envied " planter 
aristocracy." With this in view, he bought, in his later years, a little 
plantation on the Shockoe and became the owner of three slaves, — an 
old man and woman, and a fuzzy-headed girl with a face of that curious 
lividness which marks the negro in whose cuticle the pigmerdwm nigrum 
is somewhat lacking. She was of mixed blood, but her mother was 
dark enough to show that the child was one of those freaks of nature 
which were not easily marketable. The overseer had bought her, 
therefore, almost for a song at an administrator's sale. As she grew 
older the albino tendency seemed to disappear, leaving her one of those 
curiously-marked types whose relation to either race is uncertain, but 
whose kinship to both is unmistakable. He purchased also a snug 
little plantation, forty miles away, at the foot of the Turkey-Cock Hills, 
which his sagacity told him would one day be valuable tobacco-land. 
It was understood that John, the elder, was to have the home-place, 
and Abiah, the younger, was to take the hill-plantation. The chattels- 
real were to be equitably divided also, — the old man and woman to 
John, and the girl Elena to Abiah. With this aid they were expected 
to lift themselves into the coveted social position. 

The old man had raised his sons carefully, though they had little 
education. A few months in a neighborhood " contribution" school 
had sufficed to teach them to read, to write with difficulty, and to keep 
the rude accounts necessary in their station. As agriculturists, howevei', 
they were thoroughly trained. They had followed the plough from 
boyhood under their father's eye, knew what cultivation every crop re- 
quired, and were adepts in the management of stock and the working 
of slaves. John had married and was working as overseer when the 
war began. He could not enter the service until his conti-act expired ; 
but Abiah volunteered without hesitation. At the end of the year 
John did likewise, and his wife came to the home-place to live. A few 
months afterwards, Abiah returned, severely wounded. Soon after, his 
mother died ; and when he recovered — so far as he ever would — from 
the effects of his wound, possessed with the spirit of unrest, generated 
partly perhaps by service in the army and })urtly by lack of harmony 
with his sister-in-law, he persuaded the old father to set off to him his 
portion of the estate, and, taking a horse and Avagon, with a small stock 
of farming-utensiLs and the girl Elena, he set out to take ])ossession 
of the hill-plantation, and, literally single-handed, to carve his way to 
fortune. He had still his right, and, in a hali-boastl'ul way, doclareil 
that, in spite of the crippled letl, he was a bettor man than any of the 
skulkers who would neither fight nor work. He made gootl his Ixmst, 
too, and the little plantation on (he head-watei*s of l*ig Uiver soon as- 
sumed a thrifty and comfortable aspect. 

There were few neighbors, and the " settlement" was moix? than a 

mile from any travelled road. They heaixl little of the movements 

of the outer world. Newspapers were not abundant, and wei*o by no 

means considered a necessity of lile. Now and then Abiah went to 

Vol. XLII.— 26 



400 WITH GAUGE 4- SWALLOW. 

the city, twenty miles away, to market his produce. Whatever he 
raised brought enormous quantities of paper money, but what he had 
to buy seemed very dear. After the first season a colored man and 
woman who had been " refiigeed" from the eastern part of the State 
were hired. They cost him little beyond their support, as the owner 
regarded their safety — or rather their lack of opportunity to escape to 
the enemy's lines — as an equivalent for their labor. As the fortunes 
of the Confederacy grew desperate, the mountains were filled with men 
fleeing from conscription and their pursuers. It was dangerous to be 
suspected of favoring the former, and quite as perilous to be thought to 
give aid to the latter. 

Abiah Wilkins acted very prudently. As a wounded Confederate 
who had a brother in the ranks, he was free from suspicion of favoring 
the bushwhackers. On the other hand, Elena kept the keys of the 
smoke-house ; and such was his confidence in her that he did not pry 
too closely into the amount of food required for the support of his family. 
While she saved him from the hostility of the deserters, however, she 
neither squandered his stores nor permitted her charity to imperil his 
reputation for loyalty. No doubtful characters were ever seen about 
his premises by the officials, and no hunted conscript ever suspected 
Abiah Wilkins of giving information of his hiding-place. He really 
had little sympathy with the conscripts. He would not willingly have 
assisted one of them to evade the service, but, good Confederate though 
he was, he managed to convince himself that he was not responsible for 
what the girl might do. She was only his slave, affer all, though a 
most devoted and capable one. He hardly knew how he could have 
got along without her. 

There came a time, however, when he could not thus easily shake 
off responsibility. It was a cold night in mid-winter when he was 
awakened by the whispered words of Elena : 

" Mars' Biah ! Mars' Biah ! Won't you des oome to de kitchen a 
minnit?" 

"What is it, Lena?" 

There was no answer, and he heard her swift, shuffling steps on the 
boards that formed the walk to the kitchen, rattling on the frozen ground 
as she went, and wondered what could have induced her to come out on 
such a night barefooted. 

He rose hastily, and followed her, half dressed. As he reached the 
door he heard a dull, hollow cough. Opening it, he saw lying on a 
shuck mattress on the rude puncheon floor before the great fireplace a 
young man, pale, emaciated, and convulsed with that cough which it 
needs no technically-trained ear to know is the sure precursor of death. 
The girl was kneeling on the floor beside him, wiping the red line of 
his lips while he panted for breath. 

" What's this ?" asked the master, in an anxious tone, coming for- 
ward into the circle of light about the fire. The sufterer turned his 
great dark eyes upon the new-comer, and essayed to speak. 

" 'Sh ! Don't try to speak, honey. I'll tell him," said the girl. 

But the man would not be silent. Motioning to the girl to raise 
his head, he told the astonished planter a strange story. He was a 



WITH GAUGE ^ SWALLOW. 401 

Federal soldier who had escaped from the Confederate prison at Salis- 
bury and made his way thus far towards the lines of the Union army. 
His health, already broken, had been utterly shattered by the exposure 
of the journey. For some time he had been cared for as well as might 
be by the deserters in the bush, who finally, seeing that he could not 
recover, and being themselves compelled to flee to avoid an intended 
raid upon their hiding-place, had brought him to the house, hoping 
that the kind-hearted girl who had more than once brought him needed 
dainties might somehow afford him shelter. 

" Ob co'se. Mars' Biah, I tole ^em he couldn't stay yere 'less you 
was willin', kase hit mought git you inter trouble." 

" I wouldn't do that, after the kindness I've received," said the in- 
valid, hoarsely. " I'll go away if you think " 

But Abiah did not allow him to finish the sentence. 

^^ I'm a good Confederit," he said, " but ther' don't no man go outen 
my house en that condition, — friend ner foe." 

He was as good as his word. The next day the sick man was re- 
moved to the house and placed in Abiah's own bed. Here he remained 
more days than it seemed possible that he could live. He even began- 
to hope for recovery ; but when the warm spring-time brought the news 
of victory for the Federal arms, he sank contentedly away. The story 
was common enough in those days, though it seems a strange one now. 
A mere boy, he had run away from school and enlisted under an as- 
sumed name to avoid paternal reclamation. Taken prisoner and con- 
fined in the fetid, overcrowded pen, he had sunk rapidly into cpnsump- 
tion, and but for an almost miraculous escape would have been one of 
the twelve thousand nameless dead who sleep beneath the long ridges on 
the sunny hill-side beyond where the famous prison stood. He wrote 
an account of his wanderings ; and after he was dead and the war was 
over, Abiah Wilkins sent it to Mr. Swallow, with a brief ill-spelled 
note detailing the end. After a time the lawyer came — one of a great 
host of seekers for lost loved ones — and took away the remains of his 
son. When he had returned home and mastered the sorrow time could 
not assuage, he wrote the letter John had brought as his introduction. 

Why had Abiah Wilkins appealed to the man whose dying sou he 
had befriended almost a score of years before, for aid ? He had lived 
quietly enough upon the little hill-plantation, prosperous in a moderate 
way, contented with his fortune, and at peace with his neighbors. 
Almost too contented, some said, with a sly look which everybody 
seemed to understand; but, for all that, he was highly respecteil, and 
more than one young woman of the neighborhood resolutely set her cap 
for the well-to-do bachelor, only to have her labor for her pains. With 
the downfall of slavery he increased the number of his hirelings, finding 
that his early training under the old ovoi-scer especially fitted him for 
the management of the negro in a state of freedom. Elena remaineil 
with her young master, and the keys which were the symbol of au- 
thority still hung at her girdle. She had not grown luuulsonie witli 
the years that had elapseil, but she had manageil Abiah Wilkius's 
domestic afTiiirs so iaithfully that he felt his success was jn givat measure 
due to her co-operation. Another house had l)ecn addeil to the kit<'hen, 



402 WITH GAUGE ^ SWALLOW. 

in which she dwelt, — she and her children, a half-dozen of whom had 
grown up around her. Some of the elder ones had been sent away to 
school ; the younger were with her yet. It needed but a glance at her 
surroundings to know why the neighbors wagged their heads at the 
mention of Abiah Wilkins's name. 

Yet he was what is termed in the vernacular " a mighty straight 
man." Though not a member of the church, he was upright in his 
dealings, moderate in his language, and sober in his habits. He attended 
divine service regularly, and was one of the most liberal supporters of 
stated preaching at High Rock Meeting-house, four miles away ; while 
Elena sustained a similar relation to the colored church at Elkin's 
Ford, two miles away in an opposite direction. Both were highly 
respected in the neighborhood, and, though some deprecated what was 
considered an impropriety, no one felt called upon to withdraw their 
countenance from either. Even John's wife, who had enviously rejoiced 
in the loss emancipation would bring to the fortunate younger brother, 
was fain to admit that there were not many such housekeepers as '' that 
gal Lena" anywhere in the country. "Brother Biah," she declared, 
" owed more of his luck to her good management than to his own good 
sense." 

The new plantation had grown old in the mean time. The trees 
which had been topped when the house was built had thrown out their 
protecting branches over it ; porches had been added here and there, 
and a latticed way connected the house and kitchen with a branch that 
led to the well, and on this the ivy and honeysuckle struggled con- 
stantly for supremacy. Abiah smoked his pipe contentedly upon the 
porch, but supervised with diligence the work of the plantation. Neat- 
ness and comfort reigned about the house. 

About this time a big meeting was held at High Rock Church after 
the crops were laid by, and, to the surprise of all, among others who 
went forward to the straw-strewn space before the pulpit under the 
arbor, asking the prayers of God^s people, was Abiah Wilkins. The 
sight inspired those in charge of the meeting to renewed exertions. 
Long and fervid were the prayers which were offered in his behalf. If 
he was not a boisterous penitent, he was a persevering one. Day after 
day and night after night he was found kneeling in the same place. It 
was the talk of the neighborhood. Elena went once to see with her 
own eyes what she had heard so much about from others. When she 
returned home her eyes were red with weeping. After that she served 
her master silently, tearfully. She felt that her hour had come, yet she 
made no complaint, uttered no reproaches. So Hagar must have felt 
when her master put her forth in the desert. 

At length, after seven days and nights of struggle, grace triumphed, 
and Abiah Wilkins testified with flowing tears of that love which 
taketh away sin. As in everything else, he was quiet and undemon- 
strative in regard to his religious experiences; but none the less did 
every one put faith in his sincerity. As he did not offer to join the 
church, he was urged to do so, and, upon expressing his willingness, one 
of the most persuasive of the preachers in attendance was deputed to 
confer with him in regard to a right ordering of his domestic life, so 



WITH GAUGE ^ SWALLOW. 403 

<Jiat the Church of God might not be scandalized by any show of 
evil. 

'^ Brother Wilkins," said the chosen emissary, as they sat smoking 
upon the porch after having partaken of a bountiful repast prepared by 
Elena, — " Brother Wilkins, your past life has not been in harmony 
with the law of God." 

Abiah bowed his head with a troubled look. 

" This/' said the mentor, sternly, " will have to be amended, so 
that the Church of God may suffer no harm from your example." 

" Of course," said Abiah, shooting a stream of smoke out into the 
moonlight. 

" What are you going to do about it ?" 

The new convert smoked on in silence. A whippoorwill, sitting 
lengthwise on the ridge-pole of the house, sent out into the night its 
melancholy song. The fire-flies danced up and down among the 
orchard-grass under the oaks, and the katydid shrieked its clamorous 
challenge into the night. Still Abiah was silent. The tragedy in 
which every man plays a leading part first or last had culminated, and 
the hero had forgotten his lines. 

" What are you going to do, my brother ?" 

The soft persuasive tones of the man of God fell upon his ear and 
went by him into the silent night. Elena, crouching behind the vine- 
clad lattice, heard them, and waited breathless for the response. Still 
Abiah smoked on in silence. At length he took the long reed stem 
from his mouth, knocked the ashes from the bowl, carefully putting 
his foot on the yet glowing embers, and said, — 

" Passon, I hain't edzactly concluded what I will do. I 'lows to 
do the fa'r thing ; but the trouble is to know jes' what's the right thing 
to be done. What do you say, passon ?" 

" You must put away this woman with whom you have so long 
lived in open shame," said the minister, sternly. He thought it a case 
in which mild words and mild measures would be of no avail. 

" She's stuck by me sick an' well," mused Abiah. 

" Of course you will recompense her for her services." 

" Jest 'bout half I've got's been owin' to her management." 

" It's very creditable to you to acknowledge her merit." 

" Ef it hadn't been for her, I'd 'a' died in my sins long ago." 

He lighted his pipe and began to smoke again. The minister 
watched his face narrowly as the match flamed up from the glowing 
bowl. 

'^ Were you afraid to die then, Brother Wilkins?" 

" Nary bit, paason : jest felt as I do now, tliat I ought to do the 
fa'r thing; that was all." 

'' Did you do it ?" 

" Wul, sorter : I made my will." 

" I siij)pose you made a '^nod provision for the girl ?" askod the 
minister^ curiously. 

" I left her all thcr' was," answered the convert, 

"What?" 

" All ther' was, passon. You see, this is die way I felt about it 



404 WITH GAUGE ^ SWALLOW. 

She^s done ez much ez I ; her chiPrun is my chiPrun. Ef there's been 
any wrong, I'm the one that's ter blame fer it; and what ther' is 
wouldn't be none too much fer her to git along with alone." 

" It's fortunate you did not die at that time," said the minister, in 
a tone of relief. 

"I don' know 'bout that," pursued the other; 'Hiit's a mighty sight 
easier ter do jestice when one thinks he's a-dyin' than when he's got ter 
keep on livin'. Yer see, what was jestice then ain't nothin' more'n jestice 
now." 

" But no one would expect you to do as much as that for her." 

" P'r'aps not ; but what's religion good fer if it don't make a man 
jest?" 

" But your idea is morbid and extravagant. The woman no doubt 
deserves to be treated liberally ; but you are not called upon to impov- 
erish yourself. If she were a white woman, now, you might marry her." 

" There ain't many women whiter'n she is, in this world ner the 
next, passon," said Abiah, solemnly. 

" That may be, — in a way," assented the minister. ^' But you can- 
not marry her, of course. The law is dead against that." 

" I s'pose 'tis," said the other, moodily. 

" You ought to be glad of it, too, if you contemplated such a de- 
grading act." 

" P'r'aps I hed." 

*' Of course you should. Now let me urge you, my brother, to act 
in this matter with firmness and without delay. * Cast aside the sin that 
doth so easily beset you.' Make a good provision for this girl, and 
pack her off. Then on next communion-day you can join the church 
and begin a new life." 

" "VVal, passon, I'll 'tend to hit right away, I'll promise that ; and 
whatever I do, you may be sure hit'll be right, — or ez nigh right ez I 
kin git." 

" Well, don't let your impulses carry you so far that you might 
regret it : remember that justice, like charity, begins at home." 

"So it do : I ain't likely ter fergit that," said Abiah. "Passon," 
he continued, earnestly, " what would you say ef I should jes' make 
over ter Lena an' her chil'run pretty much all I've got round me here 
an' start over in life fer myself, — a new life, ez you sed ?" 

" I should say you were a fool," said the minister, bluntly. 

" An' the others, — the church, — I s'pose they'd think so too?" 

" Of course ; every sensible person would." 

" So I s'pose, — so I s'pose," mused Abiah. " But, passon, what 
d'yer think Jesus Christ would say about it ef he was here an a-jedgin' 
on't right now ? D'ye think he would say it was too much, er — too 
little?" 

There was a moment's silence, and then the minister responded, 
solemnly, — 

" My brother, there are some things every man must decide for 
himself; and tliis is one. May God help you to decide aright !" 

" Amen I" responded Abiah. Then he struck a light and showed 
the minister to his room. 



WITH GAUGE ^ SWALLOW. 405 

The next day Abiah drove to the city, taking Elena with him. 
They were absent nearly a week. It was thought he would return 
alone ; but he did not. The Sabbath following, Abiah rode as usual to 
the High Rock meeting. It was the day he was to be received into 
the church. He arrived before the service commenced. The grove 
was fresh and green after a shower of the night previous. He felt 
that he ought to be happy, though his face was full of doubt. As he 
walked down the aisle, with his hat hung upon his crippled hand, he 
saw the table prepared for the communion, and wondered if he would 
be allowed to taste the elements the snowy cloth concealed. He knew 
that every one was regarding him with curiosity. Some of the light- 
minded winked and made remarks as he appeared, which the better- 
behaved pretended not to hear. 

The minister saw him as he entered, and met him half-way down 
the aisle. Taking him by the arm, he led him out past the pulpit into 
the grove back of the arbor. After walking a little way, they sat down 
upon a log. The minister took out his knife, cut oif a sucker, and 
began to trim it. Abiah still held his hat upon his crippled hand. 

" Well, Brother Wilkins, how is it ? What have you done with 
the woman ?" 

Abiah drew forth from the breast-pocket of his coat a paper, which 
he partly opened, with the curious skill the one-handed acquire, by 
pressing it against his knee, and extended towards the minister. The 
latter glanced at it, flushed, turned pale, and trembled with excitement 

'* You don't mean to say " he began, angrily. 

" Yes, passon,'' said Abiah, humbly. " Thar didn't seem to be no 
other way ter do the right thing.'' 

" Do you know what people will say ?" 

" I s'pose they'll think me mighty low-down. I don't blame 'em. 
Hit were pretty hard ter do, passon ; but one can't expect ter be a 
Christian fer nothin'." 

" But how did you come to do it ? You promised me " 

" I did, passon, I did," interrupted Abiah, " an' I 'lowed ter do 
then pt-etty much ez you advised ; but I thought I oughtn't ter be 
onjust ter en ny body. So when the lawyer tole me we could be married 
in the Deestrick of Columby, all straight an' reguler, I thought I'd 
give her a chance ter say she were an honest women, an give the chil'run 
a right ter wear their fayther's name. Then I 'lowed ter give her half 
uv all I hed, let her go off soraewhercs with the chil'run, an' I'd stay 
here an' never see nothin' more of 'em. That were my design, pasv^on, 
an' I thought that were the best I could do ; but when we stood up 
afore the minister an' I promised afore God ter * take this woman' an' 
'cleave only ter her,' I seed 'twouldn't do: I couldn't do jestice by 
halves. So here I be. Ef you think " 

"I think " Tlie minister interrupted himself as he looked into 

the patient fac^e before him. " God judge you, my brother; I duix^ not. 
You have done a terrible thing. If it were known to the cvn^regiition, 
I fear you might sutler violence. I think you had better go home and 
— (/o away, God bless you !" 

He wrung the convert's hand and talked hick to the arbor. The 



406 WITH GAUGE ^ SWALLOW. 

words of the opening hymn were echoing through the grove when 
Abiah mounted his horse and rode homeward. 

There was great excitement in the community when these things 
became known. Fortunately, the court was in session at the county 
seat, and, a true bill having been found, Biah and Elena were arrested. 
This probably saved them from violence. As in very many States at 
the North as well as at the South, the marriage of a white person 
with one of one-eighth or more of colored blood was contrary to the 
law, and this marriage, though solemnized without the State, being 
between parties domiciled therein and visiting a foreign jurisdiction 
simply for the purpose of marriage, was held upon the trial to be in 
fraud of the statute, and therefore void. This view was also sustained 
by the Supreme Court. 

This was the state of affairs when appeal was made to Mr. Swallow. 

" What Biah wants ter know," said the faithful brother who had 
stuck to him " through evil as well as good report," " is whether the 
law uv the United States is good over the whole kentry, er only three 
miles one way and five miles 'tother from the Capitol. Er to put it in 
a leetle different shape, he wants ter know ef Elena is his wife sure 
an' fast in Washington, why she ain't his wife in Ferginny ? I ain't 
stan'in' up fer Biah. Ef he was clar, I wouldn' own him ez a brother ; 
he's gone an' disgraced hisself an' the whole fambly ; but this I will 
say : he didn't 'low ter do enny harm, but only ter do in a lawful way 
what he thought the Lord commanded. Now, what I want ter know 
is, how is one gwine ter tell when he's right an' when he's wrong, ef he 
can't foller law ner Scripter?" 

"These are very interesting questions, Mr. Wilkins," said the 
Junior, suavely, " but I don't suppose Biah would care to stay in jail 
long enough to have them decided. It happens that there is one thing 
in his favor. The authority of a State court to disregard a marriage 
duly solemnized under the laws of the United States, because inconsis- 
tent with the State law, has never been decided, and it is quite possible 
that the authorities of the State would hardly care to press for an adju- 
dication at this time. A lawyer's business is to serve his client rather 
than settle legal questions. So we will apply for our writ of error, and 
then, if the authorities are willing to let Biah go where nobody will 
inquire about the pedigree of his wife, and he is willing to go, I don't 
see but we have found the best way out of the trouble. If we have to 
carry it up, of course we will ; but it's a mighty good rule never to 
fight for what you can get without a fight." 

We prepared the pajjers, and Mr. Swallow himself made the appli- 
cation for the writ. But the case has never come to trial. In the 
court below, the indictment is marked "Nol. Pros.," and in the ap- 
pellate court the entry stands, "Dismissed at Plaintiff" 's cost." So 
the legal puzzle it presents remains unsolved. The great West has 
swallowed up Abiah Wilkins and his shame ; "the peace of God and 
the State" are no more threatened by his sin or his repentance ; and 
those lawfully wedded in one State may still be adjudged malefactors in 
another. 

Albion W. Tour gee. 



SOME FAMOUS HOAXES. 407 



SOME FAMOUS HOAXES, 

MANY etymologies for the word " hoax" have been suggested, — ^the 
most plausible making it a corruption from the first word of 
hocus-pocus, which in its turn is a corruption from the hoc est corpus of 
the mass. A hoax may be defined as a successful effort to deceive with- 
out any motive but fan. With a further limitation of its meaning as 
a deception of the many, a useful line of demarcation might be drawn 
between the hoax and the practical joke which is aimed only at indi- 
viduals. This definition would exclude all the famous literary forgeries, 
from Chatterton to Lew Yanderpoole, where the object was pelf rather 
than amusement, such deliberate swindles as the South Sea Bubble, and 
even such famous instances as De Foe's story of the apparition of Mrs. 
Veal, which was written to sell " Drelincourt on Death.'' 

When Sheridan completed the Greek sentence levelled against him 
— which the country members cheered, not because they understood it, 
but because it was quoted on their side — by saying that the passage 
should have been continued to the end, and glibly adding a screed of 
Irish, it is doubtful whether his jest rose to the dignity of a hoax. 
But the constant victimization of antiquaries by fabricated articles pur- 
porting to be interesting as relics of the past is clearly a hoax, except 
when it is done for profit. Every one will remember, in Scott's 
" Antiquary," the metal vessel inscribed with the letters A — D — L — L, 
which Monkbarns interpreted to mean Agricola dicavit libens lubens, 
but which Edie Ochiltree pronounced to be Aikin Drum's lang ladle. 
And every one will also remember the uneven and broken stone on 
which the Pickwick club laboriously deciphered this inscription : 

+ 

BILST 

UM 
PSHI 

S.»f. 
ARK 

which turned out to be nothing more nor less than " Bil Stumps, his 
Mark." Here again the hoax is not perfect, because there is no 
evidence that either Aikin Drum or Bill Stokes had any deliberate in- 
tention to deceive. But the following inscri])tion is a genuine hoax. 
It was sent to the secretary of an enthusiastic band of archroologists 
exploring the town of Banbury, as having been copie<l from the corner- 
stone of an old structure lately pulled down : 

"skooeh sukvk kueii wcisumk vahl 

IjAII SEIIS SE OTUEir NOS liLEHDNAS 
RECmi FHEir NOS ONrilES ROIIYEU 
GANOEI) I KYI) AliK NIFAK KSOTS SOHCY 
RUn NAJU)T ICS UOIIK (X) CAED lU." 

After the learned heads had been puzzltKl for a while, one of their 
number hit upon the expedient of reading the inscription backwanl, 
when it was found to be an ingenious transposition of the well-known 
nursery rhyme " Hide a ('ock-horsc," etc. 



408 SOME FAMOUS HOAXES. 

The ever-amusing " Raikes's Diary" tells of a stone found near 
N^rac in 1838 which bore this legend : Similiter causd-gue ego ambo 
ie fumant cum de suis. After puzzling all the learned brains of the 
locality, it was about to be sent to Paris, when an old inhabitant re- 
membered that the stone came from a building occupied by Russian 
troops during the invasion of 1814. Tlie explanation that it was only 
a bit of military fun at onee suggested itself, and finally it was dis- 
covered that by reading off the inscription with the proper French 
pronunciation of the syllables it became Six militaires cosaques egaux 
en beauti fumunt comme deux Suisses, which translated means, '^ Six 
Cossack soldiers equal in beauty, smoking like two Swiss." 

The archaeologist Gough, at a curiosity-shop, came across a slab of 
stone with a curious inscription, bought it, and had it described before 
the Society of Antiquaries, and engraved for the Gentlemen's Magazine. 
The legend read, ^' Here Hardcnut drank a wine-horn dry, stared about 
him, and died." The evidence seemed to be in its favor. It had been 
found, so the shopkeeper asserted, in Kennington Lane, where the 
palace of Hardcnut is supposed to have been situated. At last it 
transpired that George Steevens, to satisfy an old grudge against Gough, 
had procured a fragment of an old chimney-slab, scratched the inscrip- 
tion in rude characters, and got the curiosity-dealer so to manage that 
Gough should see and buy the stone. 

Traps of this sort are continually being laid for unsuspecting an- 
tiquarians by the waggishly-inclined, and many a supposed old coin 
has been found on investigation to be nothing more than a sou or a 
centime melted in the fire, battered with a hammer, punched with a 
cold-chisel in imitation of antique lettering, and then hidden in some 
place where it was sure to be discovered. " There is a cairn," says the 
Rev. J. G. Wood, " broken and battered, on the summit of the hills 
near the Vale of White Horse, and visible from the railway. A very 
well known author refers in a very well known book to that cairn as a 
Danish monument, whereas I built it myself; and, by the same token, 
there is in the middle of it a flat-iron without any handle. Jokes of 
this sort," he adds, " are very prevalent among scientific men. There 
is, for example, one of our best entomologists who prides himself on 
his skill in manufacturing insects. If they have wings, he discharges 
the color by chemical means, and paints them afresh. He substitutes 
various parts of various beings for those of the creature which he man- 
ufactures, cutting out from an old champagne- cork anything that may 
be found wanting. He once tried to palm off on me a most ingenious 
combination. The head was made of cork, the wings were real wings, 
only turned the wrong side upwards, and the body had been taken to 
pieces, painted, and varnished. Unfortunately for himself, this very 
clever forger of entomological rarities had visited one of those houses 
where the celebrated Cardinal Spider lives, and had added the legs of a 
spider from Hampton Court to the body, wings, and antennae of in- 
sects from all parts of the world. The spider's legs betrayed him, but 
the author of the entomological forgery was not in the least disconcerted 
at the discovery of the fraud. There are no school-boys who enjey a 
joke half as much as your celebrated scientific and literary men. Their 



SOME FAMOUS HOAXES. 409 

reputation is too safe for cavil, and when they get together they are as 
playful as so many kittens. The museum of the late Charles Waterton 
was full of zoological jokes." 

Many such hoaxes have been perpetrated for the purpose of silencing 
criticasters and exposing their pretensions. Thus, Michael Angelo, 
wearied of hearing modern sculpture contrasted with ancient to the 
disparagement of the former, hit upon the plan of burying a Cupid, 
having first knocked off an arm or so, and when it was dug up he had 
the satisfaction of hearing his former detractors praise it as a genuine 
antique. Muretus played a similar trick upon the critic Joseph Scaliger, 
a great admirer of the ancients, by palming off upon him some Latin 
verses as being copied from an old manuscript. Scaliger was delighted, 
ascribed them to an old comic poet, Trabeus, and quoted them in his 
commentary on Varro " De E-e Rustica," as one of the most precious 
fragments of antiquity. Then Muretus wickedly informed the world 
of his deception, and pointed out the small dependence to be placed on 
the sagacity of one so prejudiced in favor of the ancients. A famous 
hoax of this sort was practised by Johann Meinhold upon the Tiibingen 
school of critics. These gentlemen believed their judgment unerring 
in deciding upon the authenticity of any writing, and throughout the 
Gospels they professed to discriminate the precise degree of credibility 
of each chapter, each narrative, each word, with a certainty that dis- 
dained all doubt and a firmness no argument could move. In 1843 
Dr. Meinhold published " The Amber Witch," professedly from a mu- 
tilated manuscript which had been found by an old sexton in a closet 
of the church at Usedom in Pomerania. It purported to be a contem- 
poraneous chronicle, by the pastor of Coserow, of certain events that 
took place in his parish in the early part of the seventeenth century, and 
was accepted as such by the profoundest of the Tiibingen savants. We 
know that Robert Stephen Hawkins deceived even Macaulay (an excel- 
lent judge of ballad poetry) by his " Song of the Western Men," with its 
refrain of 

And must Trelawny die, and must Trelawny die ? 

Then forty thousanrd Cornishmen will know the reason why. 

We know that Surtees deceived even Sir Walter Scott (a still better 
judge) with his ballads of ^^ The Slaying of Antony Featherstonhaugh" 
and " Bartram's Dirge," which purported to be collected from oral tradi- 
tion and were furnished with learned notes. Nay, Andrew Lang hints 
an uncomfortable suspicion that Sir Walter Scott, who was fond of forging 
extracts from "old plays" as citations for his chapter-headings, was 
himself the author of the ballad of " Kinmont Willie," which to this 
day is accepted as one of the finest of the old Eni^lish ballads. The 
last ballad hoax of much note was a set of sham IVlaccdonian epics and 
popular songs about Alexander the Groat and other hcrot's, \vln\'h a 
schoolmaster in Rhodoj^e imposed on M. Verkovitoh, and which for 
a brief i)eriod deceived the learned. 

Prosper M6rim6o was the most skilful of French literary forgers, 
using his talents for amilsement rather than for deliberate deception. 
When a mere youth, he played a practical joke on Cuvier, by inannflu^ 
turing for him an original letter of llobespierre, which defiglited that 



410 SOME FAMOUS HOAXES, 

hunter of autographs as well as truth. The deception was not found 
out until a rival collector held the autograph to the light and saw that 
the water-mark on the paper bore a date later than Robespierre^s death. 
M6rim6e's first published book was a collection of short dramas, pre- 
tended translations from a gifted Spanish lady, Clara Guzla, for whom 
he invented a biography. " Clara Guzla" was taken for a reality ; her 
genius was gravely discussed by critics, and a Spaniard, ashamed to 
confess ignorance of so gifted a countrywoman, declared that, although 
the French translation was good, it was inferior to the original. 
Afterwards M^rim^e manufactured an Hungarian bard, songs and all, 
who made dupes of German as well as French critics, and set them to 
wondering why so brilliant a writer had never been heard of outside of 
Hungary. 

A very different sort of hoax was recently practised upon English 
publishers and magazine-editors. A disappointed literary aspirant, 
weary of having his articles declined with thanks, and doubtful of his 
critics' infallibility, copied out " Samson Agonistes,'' which he rechris- 
tened "Like a Giant Refreshed," and the manuscript, as an original 
work of his own, went the rounds of publishers and editors. It was 
declined on various pleas, and the letters he received afforded him so 
much amusement that he published them in the St. James's Gazette. 
None of the critics discovered that the work was Milton's. One, who 
had evidently not even looked at it, deemed it a sensational novel ; 
another recognized a certain amount of merit, but thought it was dis- 
figured by " Scotticisms ;" a third was sufficiently pleased to offer to 
publish it, provided the author contributed forty pounds towards 
expenses. 

A hoax which did not deceive the learned, but sorely puzzled them, 
was that known as the Dutch Mail hoax. Some fifty years ago, an 
article appeared in the Leicester Herald, an English provincial paper, 
under the title of "The Dutch Mail," with the announcement that it 
had arrived too late for translation, and so had been set up and printed 
in the original. Much attention was attracted to the article, and many 
Dutch scholars rushed into print to say that it was not in any dialect 
with which they were acquainted. Finally it was discovered to be 
a hoax. Sir Richard Phillips, the editor of the paper, recently told 
this story of how the jest was conceived and carried out; "One 
evening, before one of our publications, my men and a boy overturned 
two or three columns of the paper in type. We had to get ready 
someway for the coaches, which, at four in the morning, required four 
or five hundred papers. After every exertion, we were short nearly 
a column, but there stood a tempting column of ^ pi' on the galleys. It 
suddenly struck me that this might be thought Dutch. I made up the 
column, overcame the scruples of the foreman, and so away the country 
edition went with its philological puzzle to worry the honest agricul- 
tural readers' heads. There was plenty of time to set up a column of 
plain English for the local edition." Sir Richard met one man in 
Nottingham who for thirty years preserved a copy of the Leicester 
Herald, hoping that some day the letter would be explained. 

Madame de Genlis tells a story in point. The Due de Liancourt 



SOME FAMOUS HOAXES. 411 

was an intimate friend of Abb4 Delille. Both were at Spa, when one 
morning the Abb6 was deeply chagrined by seeing some couplets on the 
birthday of the Duchess of Orleans, regular enough in manner, but 
foolish in matter, published with his name in a daily newspaper. The 
verses were in fact the duke's composition. We all remember the letter 
on American Philistinism which was credited to Matthew Arnold, the 
letter about public bores which was credited to Carlyle (and which 
Ruskin, by the way, endorsed as " not the least significant of the ut- 
terances of the Master^^), and many similar forgeries, more or less clever 
imitations of style, which have gone the rounds of the press, provoked 
surprise, anger, applause, condemnation, and finally called forth vigor- 
ous denials from the supposed authors. A poem called " AVision of Im- 
mortality," ascribed to William Cullen Bryant and copied as such into 
many papers, has been pasted into a host of scrap-books. The author 
had made a wager that he could write a poem which would deceive the 
general public into the impression that it was Bryant's. Poe has ever 
been a favorite subject for this sort of jesting, as the mannerisms of his 
style are easily caught ; and every now and then a fresh imitation, claiming 
to be a genuine treasure trove, starts on its journey through the papers. 
Perhaps this is only a fair quid pro quo. No man ever had a greater 
fondness for gulling the public. That gruesome tale, " The Facts in the 
Case of M. Valdemar," was worked up with an appalling verisimilitude 
of detail which imposed upon many people. Mesmerism at that time 
had just begun to be talked of. The Abb6 Migne, in his " Dictionary 
of Popular Superstitions,'^ seemed more than half inclined to believe in 
its truth. " We will not leave the subject of animal magnetism,'' he 
says, " without acquainting the reader with an extraordinary, we might 
say an incredible, incident which is just now creating a great sensation 
in tlie learned world," and then he translates Poe's story entire. 

The " Balloon hoax" was Poe's most successful imposition upon the 
public. One day in April, 1844, the New York Sun astonished its 
readers with an article headed thus, in magnificent capitals : 

"ASTOUNDING NEWS BY EXPRESS VIA NORFOLK! 
THE ATLANTIC CROSSED IN THREE DAYS ! ! 

Signal IVmmph of Mr. Monck Mason's Flying Machine ! ! ! 

"Arrival at Sullivan's Island, near Charleston, S.C, of Mr. Mason, Mr. 
Robert Holland, Mr. Henson, Mr. Harrison Aiusworth, and four others, in 
tlie Steering Balloon * Victoria,' after a passage of seventy-live houi-s from 
land to land ! Full particulars of the voyage !'' 

Every one was on the qui vive. " The rush for * the sole ])aper 
which had the news,' " says Poe, "was somothintj: beyond even the pro- 
digious; and, in fact, if (as some ass^M't) the Victoria did not abso- 
lutely accomplish the voyage recorded, it will be dirticult to assign a 
reason why she should not have accomplished it." It is not a little 
curious that the New York Sun was the very ]iapcr in which, nine 
years before, in Septi^mber, 1835, the celebrattH.! " Moon Hoax" had 
appeared, overshadowinp; and interrupt iiiij^ forever the story of " Hans 
Pliiall's Journey to the Moon," which, by an extraordinary coincideniv, 
Poe had begim three weeks previous in tlie Southern Literary Mrasenger, 



412 SOME FAMOUS HOAXES. 

Poe had origioally intended his own story as a hoax, but his friends, 
who had less faith in the gullibility of the public than himself, per- 
suaded him to give up the idea of deliberate deception. " I fell back 
upon a style half plausible, half bantering, and resolved to give what 
interest I could to an actual passage from the earth to the moon, de- 
scribing the lunar scenery as if surveyed and personally examined by 
the narrator.'^ The success of the " Moon Hoax'' showed that Poe was 
right and his friends wrong. The former took up the very idea which 
Poe claims to have abandoned, — that of accounting for the narrator's 
acquaintance with the satellite by the supposition of an extraordinary 
telescope. The "Moon Hoax" — so called, of course, after its bogus 
nature had been discovered — opened with an account of how Sir John 
Herschel, with Sir David Brewster's assistance, had invented an appa- 
ratus (minutely described) by which the magnifying power of an im- 
mense telescope could be sufficiently increased to detect minute objects 
in the moon. Sir John was sent out to the Cape of Good Hope at the 
expense of the English, French, and Austrian governments. " Whether 
the British government were sceptical concerning the promised splendor 
of the discoveiries, or wished them to be scrupulously veiled until they 
had accumulated a full-orbed glory for the nation and reign in which 
they originated, is a question which we can only conjecturally solve. 
But certain it is that the astronomer's royal patrons enjoined a masonic 
taciturnity upon him and his friends until he should have officially com- 
municated the results of his great experiment." This was a clever ex- 
planation of the circumstance that nothing had before been heard regard- 
ing the gigantic instrument taken out by Herschel. That he was actually 
at that time at the Cape of Good Hope was generally known. 

On the night of January 10, 1835, the telescope was ready to be 
employed upon the moon. The first things observed were basaltic 
rocks covered with poppies ; then fields, trees, and rivers ; then amethyst 
mountains and verdant valleys ; then animals like bisons, a unicorn- 
goat, pelicans, sheep, etc. All these things were described with a gor- 
geous wealth of detail. At last winged creatures were seen to light 
upon a plain, something between a human being and an orang-outang 
in appearance, with wings like those of a bat. These beings were at 
once christened the Vespertilio-homo, or Bat-man. They were doubt- 
less innocent and happy creatures, but some of their ways were unpub- 
lishably singular and were reserved for a scientific book by Herschel. 
Meanwhile, several ministers, on a promise of temporary secrecy, were 
allowed a peep at these things which were unfit for the laity. 

Such was the substance of a narrative which astounded all America. 
Many were deceived, many were only perplexed. Poe himself wrote 
an examination of its claims to credit, showing distinctly its fictitious 
character, but was astonished at finding that he could obtain few lis- 
teners, " so really eager were all to be deceived, so magical were the 
charms of a style that served as the vehicle of an exceedingly clumsy 
invention. . . . Not one person in ten discredited it, and (strangest 
point of all !) the doubters were chiefly those who doubted without 
being able to say why, — the ignorant, those uninformed in astronomy, — 
people who would not believe because the thing was so novel, so entirely 



SOME FAMOUS HOAXES. 413 

'out of the usual way/ A grave professor of mathematics in a Vir- 
ginia college told me seriously that he had no doubt of the truth of the 
whole affair/^ Many prominent newspapers fell squarely into the trap. 
The Mercantile Advertiser thought the document bore " intrinsic evi- 
dence of being authentic.^' The New York Times thought it displayed 
" the most extensive and accurate knowledge of astronomy/' was " prob- 
able and plausible," and " had an air of intense verisimilitude." The 
Albany Daily Advertiser had read the article with " unspeakable emo- 
tions of pleasure and astonishment ;" while the New Yorkeir considered 
the discoveries " of astounding interest, creating a new era in astronomy 
and science generally." The hoax was reprinted in pamphlet-form, 
and, though by this time its bogus nature had been discovered, an edi- 
tion of sixty thousand copies was readily disposed of. Lately a single 
copy of that edition sold for three dollars and seventy-five cents. 

One effect of the hoax was to deprive us of the conclusion of 
"Hans Pfaall." "Having read the Moon Story to an end," says 
Poe, " and found it anticipative of all the main points of my ' Hans 
Pfaall,' I suffered the latter to remain unfinished. The chief design 
in carrying my hero to the moon was to afford him an opportunity of 
describing the lunar scenery ; but I found that he could add very little 
to the minute and authentic account of Sir John Herschel. I did not 
even think it advisable to bring my voyager back to his parent earth. 
He remains where I left him, and is still, I believe, the man in the 
moon." It is worth noting that Poe, who was ever morbidly keen on the 
subject of plagiarism, distinctly says, " I am bound to do Mr. Locke 
the justice to say that he denies having seen my article prior to the 
publication of his own : I am bound to add, also, that I believe him." 

Mr. Eichard Alton Locke, a clever New York journalist, was the 
author of the hoax. Not for many years, however, was the secret 
divulged. Some of the New York journals, indeed, published the 
" Moon Story" side by side with " Hans Pfaall," thinking that the 
author of one had been detected in the author of the other. Subse- 
quently suspicion settled down upon Nicollet, a French astronomer who 
had come to America after the revolution of 1830, and whose object, it 
was said, was to raise money and to deceive his enemy Arago. It was 
added that he succeeded in doing both. But Mr. Proctor discredits the 
Arago story, and states that no astronomer could have either written or 
been deceived by the hoax. He adds that as gauges of general knowl- 
edge scientific hoaxes have their use, just as paradoxiail works have. 
" No one, certainly no student of science, can thoroughly understand 
how little sonic people know about science, until he has observed how 
much will be believed if only ])ul)lishcd with the apparent unthorityof 
a few known names and announced with a suHiciont parade of tei^h- 
nical verbiage ; nor is it lus easy as might be thought, oven for those 
who are acquainted with i\\v. iiu^ls, to disprove either a hoax or a para- 
dox." He therefore notes without any wonder that in January, 1874, 
he was gravely asked wh(;ther an account in tlie New York Worldy 
purporting to describe how the moon's frame was gradually cracking, 
threatening eventually to fall into several sc^parate fnignicnts, wius in 
reality baaed on fact. " In the far West, at Lincoln, Nebniska, a 



H4 SOME FAMOUS HOAXES, 

lawyer asked me in February, 1876, why I had not described the great 
discoveries recently made by means of a powerful reflector erected near 
Paris. According to the Chicago Times, this powerful instrument had 
shown buildings in the moon, and bands of worlanen could be seen 
with it who manifestly were undergoing some kind of penal servitude, 
for they were chained together." It is singular how often these pseudo- 
scientific hoaxes refer to the moon. 

Of bibliographical hoaxes the most complete and artistic was the 
Fortsas Catalogue. In 1840, bibliographers were electrified by the ap- 
pearance of a pamphlet purporting to be a catalogue of the library of 
the late Count J. N. A. de Fortsas, of Binche, Belgium. It contained 
only fourteen pages, to be sure, and described only fifty-two books; 
but each of these was unique : no book mentioned by any bibliographer 
was to be found in the collection. The count, it was represented, 
" pitilessly expelled from his shelves books for which he had paid their 
weight in gold — volumes which would have been the pride of the most 
fastidious amateurs — as soon as he learned that a work up to that time 
unknown had been noticed in any catalogue." The publication of the 
" Nouvelles Recherches" of Brunet had caused the destruction of one- 
third of the count's library and broken the collector's spirit. From 
that time he made no further acquisitions ; but the bulletin of Techener 
" from time to time still further thinned the already decimated ranks of 
his sacred battalion." Weary of books and of life, he had died, Sep- 
tember 1, 1839, and his library was now offered for sale. ^The biblio- 
graphical world was fairly agog. The titles in the catalogue were 
of the most tantalizing description. Orders poured in from all parts 
of Europe. The most expert bibliographers were deceived. Charles 
Nodier, indeed, suspected a hoax, but Techener laughed at his doubts, 
and ordered No. 36, — "Evangile du citoyen J^sus, purg6 des id6es 
aristocrates et royalistes, et ramen^ aux vrais principes de la raison, par 
un bon sans-culotte." Van de Weyer and Crozat ordered the same 
book. The Princesse de Ligne, for the honor of her family, ordered 
No. 48 at any price, — " a catalogue more than curious of the bonnes 
fortunes of the Prince de Ligne," with a title that is hardly quotable. 
The director of the Royal Library of Brussels obtained an appropri- 
ation to purchase all the Fortsas treasures except seven, which were 
considered a little too free for a public library. A number of Parisian 
bibliophiles met in the stage for Brussels, and there discovered that 
they were all possessed with the same intention of stealing away un- 
noticed, each hoping by this means to have the game all to himself. 
In the course of the affair there were the usual illustrations of human 
mendacity and self-deception. Men remembered seeing books that had 
never existed. The foreman in Casteman's printing-office at Tournay 
had distinct recollection of a bogus volume credited to his press, and 
recalled its mythical author " perfectly." 

On the 9th of August, 1810, the day before the sale, an announce- 
ment appeared in the Brussels papers that the library of the Count de 
Fortsas would not be sold, — that the people of Binche, in honor of its 
collector, had determined to buy it entire. Eventually it transpired 
that catalogue, library, and Count de Fortsas himself were all the in- 



SOME FAMOUS HOAXES. 415 

vention of one R.en6 Chalons, a humorist living in Belgium. His 
ingenious catalogue begot quite a literature of its own, which was col- 
lected and published in a volume entitled " Documents et Particularit^s 
historiques sur le Catalogue du Comte de Fortsas/^ Mons, 1850. 

Theodore Hook was a famous practical joker, and once, at least, he 
perpetrated a jest that disturbed all London and amused all England. 
This was the famous Berners Street hoax. Berners Street in 1810 was 
a quiet street, inhabited by well-to-do families living in a genteel way. 
One morning, soon after breakfast, a wagon-load of coals drew up 
before the door of a widow lady living in the street. A. van-load of 
furniture followed, then a hearse with a coffin, and a train of mourning- 
coaches. Two fashionable physicians, a dentist, and an accoucheur 
drove up as near as they could to the door, wondering why so many 
lumbering vehicles blocked the way. Six men brought a great chamber- 
organ ; a brewer sent several barrels of ale ; a grocer sent a cart-load 
of potatoes. Coach-makers, clock-makers, carpet-manufacturers, con- 
fectioners, wig-makers, mantua-makers, opticians, and curiosity-dealers 
followed with samples of their wares. From all quarters trooped in 
coachmen, footmen, cooks, housemaids, and nursery-maids, in quest of 
situations. To croAvn all, dignitaries came in their carriages, — the Com- 
mander-in-Chief, the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Lord Chief Justice, 
a Cabinet minister, a governor of the Bank of England, and the Lord 
Mayor. The latter — one among many who speedily recognized that 
all had been the victims of some gigantic hoax — drove to Marlborough 
Street police-office, and stated that he had received a letter from a lady 
in Berners Street, to the effect that she had been summoned to attend at 
the Mansion House, that she was at death^s door, that she wished to 
make a deposition upon oath, and that she would deem it a great 
favor if his lordship would call upon her. The other dignitaries liad 
been appealed to in a similar way. Police-officers were despatched to 
maintain order in Berners Street. They found it choked up with 
vehicles, jammed and interlocked one with another. The drivers were 
infuriated. The disappointed tradesmen were clamoring for vengeance. 
Some of the vans and goods were overturned and broken ; a few barrels 
of ale had fallen a prey to the large crowd that was mah'ciously enjoying 
the fun. All day and far into the night this state of things con- 
tinued. Meanwhile, the old lady and the inmates of adjoining houses 
were in abject terror. Every one soon saw that a hoax had been per- 
petrated, but Hook's connection with it was not discovered till long 
afterwards. He had noticed the quietness of the neighborhood, and 
had laid a wager with a brother-wag that ho would make Berners 
Street the talk of all London. A door-plate had fuinishod him with 

Mrs. 's name, and he had spent three days in writing the letters 

which brought the crowd to her door. At the a]>pointcd time ho had 
posted himself with two or three companions in a lodging just opposite, 
which he had rented for the pur]K)Ke of enjoying the soono. Ho dtM:»mod 
it expedient, however, to go olf quickly into the country and there 
remain inco(j. for a time. Had he been publicly known as the author 
of the hoax he might have fared badly. 

William Shepard. 
Vol. XLIL— 27 



416 THE TEMPERANCE REFORM MOVEMENT. 



THE TEMPERANCE REFORM MOVEMENT, 

INEBRIETY is a vice of civilization. Only a few native instances 
of it are known among savage and barbarous tribes. TJiis, how- 
ever, is due to savage ignorance, not to. aboriginal virtue, for the un- 
tutored soul of uncivilized man has everywhere received the rum-bottle 
of the whites as a gift from the gods, and graduated into intoxication 
with an abnormal rapidity that has done much to clear the land for the 
" progress of civilization." 

In the annals of civilized man intoxication fills a prominent space. 
We are told of its existence in the very ancient records of China, while 
the Vedas of India, the Avestas of Persia, and the Biblical narrative 
yield evidence of its general existence at a very early date in the era 
of civilization. As soon, indeed, as it was found that fruit-juices would 
ferment and yi^ld a liquid capable of producing intoxication, the long 
revel of mankind began, and it has been continued to the present time 
with a steadily increasing vehemence. 

We may trace through the ages the gradual development of in- 
ebriety. Beginning with the pure fermented juice of the grape, intoxi- 
cants of greater potency in time came into use, — the fiery " rice wine" 
of India and China, the drugged wines of Palestine, Greece, and Rome, 
— until effects emulating those of distilled spirits were produced. Yet 
the drunkenness of the ancient world was due to fermented liquors only. 
It is not known when the art of distillation was first discovered, but 
it has been practised in Europe for some six centuries only, and the 
general use of ardent spirits as an intoxicating beverage has existed for 
not more than half that period. 

On the continent of Europe, indeed, wine and beer still continue 
the favorite intoxicants, except in the most northerly regions, though 
spirituous liquors are now gaining ground in Germany and France with 
an alarming rapidity. Spirit-drinking gained its first strong develop- 
ment in the British Islands, and intoxication reached its climax in 
England in the early part of the eighteenth century. This was the era 
of the "gin-drinking mania,'^ that frantic outbreak of intoxication 
which for a time threatened to sweep half of England into the drunk- 
ard's grave, and was checked only by the adoption of stringent license- 
regulations. 

Intoxication in America has had the same history of gradual devel- 
opment. In the early days of the colonies the religious fervor of many 
of them, and the police regulations of others, strongly opposed intem- 
perance, and throughout the seventeenth century sobriety was the general 
rule. During the eighteenth century appetite gradually broke down 
the wholesome regulations of the early colonists, and the dominion of 
the bottle grew apace, aided greatly by the wars of that century. New 
England, the home of Puritanism, became the centre of the impor- 
tation and manufacture of rum, and distributed this death-dealing 



THE TEMPERANCE REFORM MOVEMENT. 417 

beverage far and wide tli rough out the world, as if to negative the 
wholesome effects of its older example. 

Within the first quarter of the nineteenth century the drinking- 
habit grew in a frightful ratio, and by the year 1825 the United States 
as a nation of drunkards had reached a climax equivalent to that 
attained by England a century before, but never surpassed, if equalled, 
elsewhere in the world. In the succeeding year, 1826, began that active 
effort at temperance reform which has produced such striking effects in 
this country and has made its influence felt so far through foreign 
lands. 

We have here given in brief the story of the growth of the habit 
of inebriety, from a remote period until its culmination in the early 
years of the present century. The story of prohibitive efforts may be 
given with equal brevity. In the far past many such efforts were made 
by rulers and priests, but of popular measures of temperance reform we 
have few instances. Several emperors of China made strenuous 
attempts to do away with drunkenness, one going so far as to order that 
all vines should be uprooted in the kingdom, a radical measure which 
seems to have been effective for a considerable period. 

In India and Persia the priesthood made similar efforts, but ap- 
parently with no great effect until the rise of the Buddhistic sect of 
India, in whose declaration of principles was a vigorous total-abstinence 
plank. The later extension of Buddhism throughout eastern and 
northern Asia proved very effective as a temperance reform movement 
in that ancient land, and placed a barrier against the growth of the 
drinking-habit which yet retains much strength. A work of similar 
efficacy was performed by Mohammed when he prohibited wine-drink- 
ing in the Koran. In most of the remainder of Asia and in a consider- 
able part of Africa Mohammedanism now prevails, and wherever it is 
the ruling faith intemperance has never become prevalent. 

Nowhere else have such effective efforts to repress intoxication been 
made, though spasmodic prohibitive measures were adopted from time 
to time in the regions of Greece and Rome and in Middle- Age Europe. 
For ancient total-abstinence societies we must seek the land of the 
Hebrews, where several such societies arose from time to time, com- 
prising the Nazarites and the Rechabites of the older era, and the Es- 
senes and the Therapeutffi of the time of Christ. Of the temperance 
sentiment of the Hebrew priesthood the Bible contains many striking 
evidences. 

Coming down now to modern times, we find that the rcj^rossivc 
movement is active only in those lands in which distilled spirits are the 
favorite intoxicants. It has gaininl no foothold in the wine- and l)eor- 
drinking countries. In Sweden, where ardent spirits had proiluoetl a 
frightful stiite of inebriety, prohibitive laws were jmssed on two diller- 
ent occasions during the eighteenth century. They ivniained in force, 
however, for a few years only, and effe<'tive for much less time. Dur- 
ing the ])resent century more efficient ])rohil)i(ive measuirs have IxH^n 
adopted in Sweden, local option repression exists in many districts, and 
the spirit of temperance reform there is far in advamvof its rontlition 
in any other region of continental Europe. 



418 'J'SE TEMPERANCE REFORM MOVEMENT. 

With this preliminary glance at the general history of intemperance 
we proceed to the consideration of the temperance reform movement in 
America, a movement which has produced extraordinary effects and is 
rapidly inoculating all foreign civilized lands with its fervor. It is 
essentially different in character from any preceding measures of tem- 
perance reform, and in this lie its strength and promise for the future. 
It is, in fact, distinctively a movement of the people, — not of rulers, 
legislators, or the priesthood, as in the past. It comes not from above, 
but from below, and among its most active advocates are those who 
have themselves been drunkards, and whose influence on their fellow- 
inebriates is of necessity a hundredfold greater than would be that of 
any authoritative mandate from the powers that be. 

We do not propose to review the history of the American temper- 
ance movement. It is probably very well known to most of our 
readers, and it is our purpose simply to point out its results, to contrast 
the condition of the United States in this respect in 1825 with that 
now existing. The difference is far more striking than is generally 
supposed, and the gain for temperance much greater than would be im- 
agined from the amount of inebriety which still exists. 

It was in 1826 that the temperance reform movement in this 
country first actively began, in the organization and labors of the 
American Temperance Society. Societies had been formed previously, 
and a strong temperance sentiment existed among the clergy, but the first 
effective work was done by the society above named, whose efforts were 
of such remarkable efficacy that by 1835 there were more than eight 
thousand societies in the country, and hundreds of thousands of drinkers 
had signed the pledge. The people of America seem suddenly to have 
become convicted of sin and in haste to repent. In 1840 began the 
ardent labors of the Washingtonians, a band of reformed drinkers, 
whose lectures had an extraordinary influence upon the inebriate com- 
munity. Since then the temperance work has been manifold, and 
consists in the development of the various orders of temperance, the 
work of reform clubs, of the Catholic Total Abstinence Union, and the 
Woman's Christian Temperance Union, the establishment of homes and 
reformatories, temperance teaching in public and Sunday schools, active 
efforts at legal prohibition, and various similar measures, the total of 
which have had a vigorous influence upon the general temperance sen- 
timent of the land. 

What has been the effect of this temperance reform crusade on 
public opinion and on the drinking-habits of the community? That 
is what we have next to consider, — to present a general contrast of the 
status of liquor-drinking in the United States in 1825 with that of 
1888. 

There are two reasons why we take the year 1825 as a starting- 
point of comparison. It was the year immediately preceding the era 
of active temperance propagandism ; and it represents the climax of 
intoxication in America. Statistics show that in 1790 the annual con- 
sumption of spirituous liquors in this country was two and one-half 
gallons per capita of the- population. This was a greater consumption 
than had previously prevailed, but it was destined to be soon far out- 



THE TEMPERANCE REFORM MOVEMENT. 41 9 

done. By 1810 the number of distilleries had increased from two 
thousand five hundred to more than fourteen thousand, and the con- 
sumption of spirits was four and one-half gallons per capita. In the 
succeeding years intemperance advanced at a frightful rate, and it is 
computed that in 1823 seven and one-half gallons of this fiery beverage 
were consumed for every man, woman, and child in the country. It is 
doubtful if this was ever surpassed, even in, the days of the gin-drinking 
mania of England. 

Such a condition of affairs could not have existed had it not been 
strongly sustained by public opinion. In fact, in 1825 few voices were 
raised against the drinking-habit, and intemperance occupied a position 
of the highest respectability in the land. Distilled spirits were classed 
among the '^good creatures of God," and looked upon as necessary 
to the health, happiness, and endurance of the community, while few, 
from the clergy downwards, objected to the free imbibing of whiskey, 
or looked upon such indulgence as a vice or a weakness. Many, in- 
deed, deprecated drunkenness, but it was widely viewed as an excusable 
fault, the misfortune of having too weak a head, and the drunkard did 
not lose caste in society from this cause alone. Only when intemperance 
brought in its train some of its attendant evils — immorality, crime, 
profanity, loss of self-respect, etc. — was there a decline of the drunkard 
in social position ; but intoxication alone, free from these consequences, 
was winked and laughed at, rather than abhorred. 

This sentiment was a direct resultant of the habits of society. 
Where every one drank, no one could be contemned for drinking. Let 
us glance at the situation. The church, the censor of morals, set an 
example of indulgence which the world was not slow to imitate. 
Drinking was common not only with the members of the church, but 
with its highest officials. The deacon and his wife felt that their daily 
eleven- and four-o'clock drams were necessities of existence, lubriamts 
to the wheels of life, which would creak frightfully witliout them. 
Many deacons, indeed, made the manufacture and sale of whiskey a 
principal item of their business. Similar indulgence in intoxicants was 
common among the clergy, A pastoral ordination, according to the 
testimony of the Rev. Lyman Beecher and others, was often little short 
of a debauch, and though open drunkenness was not common with the 
clergy it was by no means unknown. Only the most railical and 
energetic reformers ventured to preach against the prevalent custom. 

Outside the church affairs were ten times worse. The rulers of the 
nation, Congressmen and legislators, governors and officials of every 
class, drank with impunity, with no loss of station or }>nl)lic respect. 
Rum played an essential part in the law-making of that o}HH'h. In 
the highest circles of society the same habits prevailed. Every social 
meeting became a revel, in which wine and brandy tlowod freely, and 
in which the guests not only as a rule became drunk, but were usually 
exf)ected and often Ibrced to becjomc drunk. To lock the door and 
rel'use to jK'rmit any one to leave the room except through the gate-way 
of intoxictation, was an ordinary trick, considered by many of our an- 
cestors as a (iommondable display of hospitality. 

While such were the habits and sentiments of the higher grades of 



420 ^^^ TEMPERANCE REFORM MOVEMENT. 

society, those of the lower were ahnost unmentionable. Rum was an 
essential requisite of every public occasion, — the marriage, the funeral, 
the merrymaking, the election, the races. Every special occasion of 
industry, from the harvesting to the church-raising, was sanctified by 
the rum-bottle. Whiskey was necessary to overcome the heat of summer 
and the cold of winter. It was considered absolutely requisite to the en- 
durance of hard labor. It was the solace of infancy and age, the medicine 
for almost every disease, the inspirer in every joy, the comforter in every 
grief. The tavern tap-room was the common meeting-place of the 
male members of the community, and to visit it daily entailed no loss 
of self- or public respect. Moderate drinking was universal, immoder- 
ate drinking exceedingly common, and the extreme of drunkenness so 
ordinary a spectacle in the streets as hardly to excite a comment. 
When men of high respectability could fall dead-drunk in the streets 
(and instances might readily be cited), what was likely to be the con- 
dition or the feeling of the laboring-classes? 

This indulgence in intoxicating beverages was not confined to men. 
It was not uncommon among women and children. The young were 
taught to drink from early childhood, and often graduated as drunkards 
before reaching manhood. Drunkenness was not usual with the 
women of the higher ranks of society, — it never has been, except in 
some instances of utter national demoralization, — but drinking was an 
ordinary custom, and the present strong sense among women of the 
moral obliquity of drunkenness had hardly begun to exist. With the 
women of the lower classes the habit of drinking to intoxication was 
much more common, and though the inebriety of women never equalled 
that of men, it was often much more base and vile in its manifestations. 

In regard to Congressional intemperance we may quote from a 
speech made by Senator Vest, of Missouri, in 1882. He prefaced his 
remarks by the following testimony as to former drinking-habits in the 
West : " I remember when, in my boyhood days in Kentucky, the first 
rite of hospitality was to extend alcoholic drink to guests, both coming 
and parting, and it was found upon my father^s table as regularly as a 
bowl of milk, or bread and butter, for home consumption. The victims 
of intemperance in those days were numbered by the hundreds and 
thousands ; public men in the country fell from it in the halls of 
Congress. . . . 

^' To-day, I say here as a fact, that out of seventy-six Senators in 
the Congress of the United States, more than half, and I believe more 
than fifty of them, do not touch, taste, or handle alcoholic drink in any 
shape whatever. And I say more than that. A member of the House 
of Representatives or of the Senate who would ever dare to show himself 
in a state of intoxication in the public councils would never disgrace his 
seat again in either house. One of the most brilliant, one of the most 
fascinating, of all the public men I have met in my career in Washing- 
ton in those years was guilty of excess publicly, and at the renomi- 
nating convention he received not one single, solitary vote. ... I 
remember when free whiskey and free votes were the mottoes of both 
parties.'* 

In corroboration of the above statement may be given the following 



THE TEMPERANCE REFORM MOVEMENT. 421 

trenchant remarks, attributed by the New York Independent to General 
D. E. Sickles, in which are clearly indicated the habits of Congress in 
the period preceding the war : 

" The war of the rebellion was really a whiskey war. Yes, whiskey 
caused the rebellion. I was in the Congress preceding the war. It 
was whiskey in the morning, — the morning cocktail, — a Congress of 
whiskey-drinkers. Then whiskey all day ; whiskey and gambling all 
night. Drinks before Congress opened its morning session, drinks be- 
fore it adjourned. Scarcely a committee-room without its demijohn of 
whiskey ; and the clink of the glasses could be heard in the Capitol 
corridors. The fights, the angry speeches, were whiskey. The atmos- 
phere was redolent with whiskey, — nervous excitement seeking relief in 
whiskey, and whiskey adding to nervous excitement. Yes, the re- 
bellion was launched in whiskey. If the French Assembly were to 
drink some morning one-half the whiskey consumed in any one day 
by that Congress, France would declare war against Germany in twenty 
minutes." 

As a contrast to the picture we have drawn, let us now look upon 
the present condition and sentiment of society as regards intemperance, 
— the outcome of the temperance reform agitation. The merest glance 
at the two periods shows a remarkable difference, — so great, indeed, 
that it is difficult to conceive that a half-century of work could have 
produced so radical a change in public opinion. 

To consider present conditions in detail, as we have those of the past, 
the state of the Church first forces itself on our attention. Here the 
reform has been almost absolute. The drinking of ministers and high 
officials has ceased entirely, and they could commit few sins more repug- 
nant to the moral sense of the community. In church-membership 
also the use of intoxicants has almost ceased to exist. Most of the 
churches, indeed, have become great total -abstinence societies, and in an 
estimate of the strength of these societies that of the church-member- 
ship should in great part be included. These remarks, of course, do 
not closely apply to the foreign element in American religious societies. 
The temperance reform is in great measure an American movement, and 
the most difficult element it has to deal with is that of the adult 
immigrant. 

As regards the habits of the higher officials of the nation, it may 
be said that the pictures above drawn of Congressional intemperance 
no longer apply. The wines which of old times profusely gmwd the 
Presidential table have, in some of the recent administrations, been 
banished therefrom, ])artly in rcsj)onse to the temperance sentiment of 
the ladies of the White House, partly in deference to tho gonoral senti- 
ment of the community. Where, in ])ul)lic dinnoi-s, they mo retainetl, 
it is significant to ])erceive that it is done out of respect to tiie tastes 
and opinions of the representatives of foreign nations; or, nt least, this 
is offered to the people of America as an excuse for their use. Here 
again we find the lower stage of tempenin(M) sentiment in Europe drag- 
ging us down to \tH level. 

Abundant testirncmy might bo brought, were it n(XH\ssnry, in evi- 
dence of the improvement in the habits of legislator and officials t\8 



422 ^^^ TEMPERANCE REFORM MOVEMENT. 

regards drinking, while it has become as difficult to buy a vote with 
whiskey to-day as in former times it was to obtain one without. 
Closed saloons on election-day indicate the popular sentiment in this 
respect, and the disgraceful drunken election-riots of the past have 
ceased to exist. 

In judicial circles no judge to-day would remain long on the bench 
who deemed it necessary to prime himself with brandy as an aid to the 
administration of justice, while to furnish a jury with liquor would in 
itself be deemed a crime worthy of legal punishment. Yet in the past 
liquor formed part of the ordinary supplies to judge and jury alike, 
and whiskey had often as much as wisdom to do with the verdict of the 
jury and the judgment of the court. 

In professional circles a similar growth in habits of sobriety is 
visible. The medical profession, for instance, was notable in the past 
for the number of drunkards which it embraced. As an evidence of 
the truth of this statement may be quoted a remark made by Professor 
Gibbons, of Philadelphia, in an address delivered before the graduates 
of one of the medical colleges of that city. He asserted that of all the 
graduates from *the medical schools of the United States during the 
])resent century, fully one-half had sunk into the grave of the drunkard. 
Habits of inebriety are not yet weeded out of the profession, but a 
statement of this stringency applied to the medical profession of the 
present day would be absurdly inexact. There has been a striking 
reform among our physicians in this respect. 

If we now consider the drinking-habits of society at large, and the 
existing state of public opinion upon this subject, as marked an im- 
provement will be manifest. It may be said that in all but the lowest 
grades of society drunkenness has ceased to be respectable. This remark 
may seem to some of no special importance, yet in reality it is full of 
significance. Public opinion is a strong lever, and to the average man 
and woman nothing is of more consequence than the maintenance of a 
position in society. Yet few things would now lower a person in the 
social scale more suddenly and decidedly than indulgence in open 
drunkenness, and this vice, where it exists, takes diligent care to hide 
itself from public view. There is yet a degree of indulgence for some 
of the gilded crimes ; there is growing to be no indulgence for the 
beastliness of intoxication. The one lowers a man morally, the other 
degrades him physically ; and at present, with society in general, phys- 
ical repulsion weighs more heavily than moral abhorrence. We have 
reached that stage of social development in which we shrink with pain 
and disgust from physical deterioration ; we are but slowly approaching 
that higher stage in which moral delinquency in its more respectable 
forms will be equally repulsive. 

Moderate drinking is still very common among persons of high 
social standing, but the moderate drinkers of to-day are the lineal 
descendants of the immoderate drinkers of the past, while their former 
analogues are represented by our advocates of total abstinence. So 
much, at least, the temperance movement has done : it has replaced 
drunkenness by moderate drinking. And in wide ranks of society 
even this degree of indulgence is severely disapproved, while drunken- 



THE TEMPERANCE REFORM MOVEMENT. 423 

ness is hidden from the public eye as sedulously as a robber might hide 
a stolen treasure. 

The force of public opinion, in fact, has become a powerful agent in 
mitigating the drinking-habits of society, and we owe to this more 
largely than to anything else the marked difference between the social 
customs of 1825 and 1888. This, however, is saying nothing in dero- 
gation of the special efforts at temperance reform in the intermediate 
period, since principally to them is due the public opinion which is now 
so effective in restraining men from intemperance. 

This influence bears more strongly upon women than upon men, 
and among the women of American birth drunkenness has almost 
ceased to exist, and the habit of drinking has in great measure vanished. 
The women of America have advanced further than the men in this 
respect. They are restrained to a greater degree by a sense of the 
moral obliquity of intemperance, and their social and moral influence is 
one of the strongest forces in the temperance propagandism of the 
present day. 

Among the members of the laboring-classes of American birth the 
improvement is little less marked. The women of these classes are as 
earnest in their sobriety as those of higher social rank ; and American 
mechanics are, as a rule, as ashamed to be seen in the streets drunk as 
are their so-called social superiors. It is as important to the most of 
them as to any members of the community to retain their standard of 
respectability and the respect of their associates. 

That drunkenness is, therefore, a far less frequent spectacle in our 
streets, and a much less prevalent vice, than of old, scarcely need be 
said. And of what is still visible much the greater part is the drunk- 
enness of foreigners. It is due to the activity of immigration, and to 
the fact that the lower classes of Europe are much below those of 
America in self-respect, and have grown up under the influence of a 
very different public opinion in regard to inebriety. 

Intemperance has by no means ceased to exist among Americans. 
There is far too much of it at the present day. But it is driven to 
hide its liead, to lurk in secret places, to cringe in shame from the eyes 
of that searching public opinion which has become a power of such 
mighty mould. The open, flaunting drunkenness which we now per- 
ceive is in great part that of persons of foreign birth or of recent 
foreign descent, and is largely a i"esultant of the sharp class-demarca- 
tion of European countries, and the consequent lack of any high 
standard of respectability in the laboring-classes. In America the 
mechanic is not prevented by his profession from mingling on terms of 
equality with the capitalist, and not only i'eels himself the equal of the 
latter, but endeavors to dress as well, to live as w(»ll, and io behave as 
well. With the first two of these eflbrts his lIinitt.Hl means must inter- 
fere. Tiie last is often more than realized. So far as regards drinking, 
indeed, many of the industries of the country require sobriety in their 
employees. This is parti(;nlarly the cjtse with tlie railroad serviix?, in 
whicli intemperance is so dangerous a fault that many eompnnies will 
not em])U)y a man who tastes llipior. And the great worUingmen's 
union of America, the Knights of Labor, hius spoken in dci^ded aotxMUs 



424 THE TEMPERANCE REFORM MOVEMENT. 

in favor of temperance, its leading spirit, General Master Workman 
Powderley, being a total abstainer of the most radical stamp. 

It would appear, then, from the above considerations, that the 
habit of inebriety in the United States now finds its chief .strength 
among the new citizens who are flocking here in such vast droves from 
Europe. It is in this class of our population that intemperance pre- 
sents its most obnoxious features and the liquor interest finds its chief 
strength. But for this fact of incessant immigration the temperance 
cause would be far more advanced than we find it in the United States 
of to-day ; and the fact that the liquor-sellers of our country are in 
great part men of foreign birth forms another strong evidence of the 
sentiment with which Americans in general regard this business. 
They look upon it as disreputable, and leave it, with its gains, to those 
who are below their level of moral elevation and self-respect. 

The fact above cited, that our drinking population is largely of 
foreign birth, has brought about certain striking changes in the char- 
acter of the intoxicating beverages used. The consumption of distilled 
spirits has declined till it is now but one and a quarter gallons annually 
per capita of population, or but one-sixth its rate in 1825. The con- 
sumption of wine has varied but slightly ; but that of beer has in- 
creased enormously. In 1840 the people of the United States drank 
but 1.36 gallons of beer per capita. In 1886 they drank 11.18 gallons, 
or nearly nine times as much. This is still but one-third the rate of 
consumption in England; yet the rapid increase is not a satisfactory 
element of the problem, particularly in view of the fact that the drink- 
ing-area has been much reduced by the enactment of prohibitive laws 
in several States and many counties, so that it argues a considerably 
greater per capita consumption in the localities in which the saloon is 
still freely open. This increase in the quantity of malt liquors imbibed 
is undoubtedly due to the rapid augmentation of our population by 
persons of German birth. 

Much certainly remains to be done by the advocates of temperance 
reform ere they can succeed in overcoming the vice of intemperance in 
America. If we could have a law to prohibit the importation of 
foreign drunkards, like that which applies to foreign paupers, the 
problem would be greatly simplified. But as matters now stand, the 
temperance cause must extend its proselyting labors to the class in 
Europe from which our population is annually recruited, ere it can hope 
to have full success upon American soil. The reform movement, to be 
successful, must become universal. 

We have said nothing in regard to the present active prohibition 
movement. It was no part of our purpose to discuss liquor legislation. 
But it seems evident that, apart from this, the cause of temperance re- 
form has made remarkable progress in America, while the existing 
moral suasion and educative methods can scarcely fail to yield equally 
good results in the future, even if all prohibitive and restrictive methods 
prove ineffective. 

Charles Morris. 



OUR ONE HUNDRED QUESTIONS. 425 



OUB ONE HUNDRED QUESTIONS. 

6. Cite some famous instances in literature where a lie is applauded. 

Out of the five hundred and more answers sent in to this question, 
for no one of them all failed to get a niark, we choose the following by 
''One of a Thousand": 

In Tacitus, Hist., iv. 50, we read that Piso incurred the wrath of Festus, who 
sent a band of assassins to kill him. When the murderers arrived at Piso's 
house the door was opened by a slave, who guessed their errand, and, when they 
asked for Piso, said, " I am Piso," and was immediately slain, while his master 
escaped. Tacitus comments, " Egregium mendacium." 

Horace, Carm., iii. 11 : 

"Splendide mendax et in omne virgo 
Nobilis aevum." 

This refers to Hypermnestra, daughter of Danaus. Her father had learned 
from an oracle that he would be slain by his son-in-law : so when his fift)' daugh- 
ters married the fifty sons of -<iEgyptos he made them all promise to kill their 
husbands. All obeyed save Hypermnestra, who permitted her husband Lynceus 
to escape. She was imprisoned for breaking her vow, but the people unanimously 
declared her innocent. 

Tasso, " Gerusalemme Liberata," H. 22 : 

" Magnanima menzogna, or quando 5 11 vero 
Si bello che si possa a te preporre." 
(0 noble He ! was ever truth so good ? 
Blest be the lips that such a leasing told !) 

The occasion of this apostrophe was the lie of Sophronia. The king, having 
had some reverses, was advised by a renegade Christian in his service to take a 
certain statue of the Virgin Mary from a church and place it in the mosque, 
where it would serve as a talisman of good luck. The king accordingly had the 
statue placed in the mosque; but the next day it had disappeared. Suspicion 
naturally fell upon the Christians, and the king decreed that the thief should 
lose his life. No traces of the culprit were found, and the king resolved to kill 
the whole Christian population, for then he would be sure that the thief would 
suffer. On hearing this, a virgin, Sophronia, falsely declared herself guilty of the 
theft, and, to save her people, gave herself up to execution. 

Other less famous examples of ancient literature applauding deceit, etc., 
are — 

^Hchylus (Fra^m. Incert., ii.), "God is not averse to deceit in a just cause." 

Sophocles (Antigone, 74), " Doing a holy deed in an unholy way." 

Euripides (Helen., 1633), "To commit a noble deed of treachery iu a just 
cause." (Also So|)hocle8, Philoct., 108.) 

Cicero (Pro Milone, 27), " Mentiri gloriose." 

Seneca (Ep., 55), " Gloriosum scelus." 

Iloraco, Ars Pootioa, (Pootio lioonse defended) : 
" Piotoribua ntquo poetis 
Quidlibot audondi Boinper fuit icqua potostna." 

Lucian has a similar remark : " 'Tis an old story that ytoeta and painters are 
accountable to nobody." 

The fiiniiliur phrano " Pia fraus" niiiy be clasaod as an applauded lie or deceit. 

In the Old Testurnent we have Hovenil instances of dec-ejition used in n jj;ood 
cauHo. Passing by .Tacoh's Iraudrt, which, though crowned with mucoosh, are 
certainly not applauded, we have — 

JoHhna ii., Rahab's lie, denying that she had concealed the two spies of Israel 
in her house. 



426 ^^^ ^NE HUNDRED QUESTIONS. 

Judges iii., Ehud, " the deliverer raised up by the Lord," obtains access to 
Eglon, king of Moab, by a lie, and stabs him. 

Judges iv., Jael invites Sisera into her tent, bidding him " fear not," and 
kills him. Deborah and Barak sing, " Blessed above women shall Jael be." 

In the Apocrypha, Judith gains the confidence of Holofernes by a series of 
lies in order to kill him, for which act she is applauded by the governor, the 
high-priest, the ancients, and all the people of Israel. 

In the Talmud is a curious story illustrating the importance of phylacteries, 
which I translate from Buxtorf 's Latin version : " The Roman government once 
forbade the Jews to wear phylacteries, and decreed that any Jew found wearing 
one should lose his head. The Rabbi Elisseus continually wore one upon (or 
around) his head, but once when in danger of arrest by a lictor he took it off 
and concealed it in his hand. The lictor asked what he had in his hand. He 
replied, ^ I have the wings of a dove.' The lictor having threatened him with 
death if he did not reveal what he held, Elisseus opened his hand, and the 
wings of a dove were actually found therein." I mention this because it bears 
such a strong resemblance to the lies of hagiology, which may be called " ap- 
plauded," since the liars have been canonized. 

St. Elizabeth, Landgravine of Hungary (1207-1231), was charitable against 
her husband's wish, and, meeting him when her apron was filled with bread for 
the poor, declared on inquiry that it contained roses. He insisted on examining 
it, and the crusts were miraculously changed to roses. 

Almost precisely similar is the legend of St. Rosaline of Villeneuve (1263- 
1329) ; and like incidents are recorded of minor saints. 

The most touching lie in English literature, though deceiving no one and 
not applauded in the text, is that of Desdemona ("Othello," Act V. Scene 2). 
Emilia cries, "Oh, who hath done this deed?" and Desdemona answers, "No- 
body; I, myself. Commend me to my kind lord," and dies. 

Perhaps the most famous lie in modern literature is in " Les Mis^rables." 

Sydney Carton's sacrifice of himself in place of his friend Darnay, in " A 
Tale of Two Cities," is a well-known instance of noble deception. 

A like motif is found in " Mademoiselle Mathilde," by Henry Kingsley, — a 
story of the Commune. The sister of the heroine is denounced as an aristocrat ; 
but Mathilde declares herself to be her sister, and is executed in her stead. 

Both these novels, and perhaps others, recall the story of Piso. Several 
incidents are recorded in history where a servant or a friend, representing him- 
self to be his master or friend, has suffered the death intended for another ; but 
these have not all been fortunate enough to have their heroism celebrated by a 
Tasso or even a Tacitus. 

Less known than Dickens's hero are " Evan Harrington" (by George Mere- 
dith), who upholds and confirms a lie told by his ambitious sister to advance her 
interests, and the heroine of " Mauprat," by George Sand, who lies at the trial 
of her lover to save his life, although she supposes him to have been intent on 
her murder. 

A poem by Adelaide Anne Procter, " Milly's Expiation," is a little like this 
last instance. Milly's lover is accused of murder ; though innocent, circum- 
stances are against him, and Milly swears falsely to save him. But Miss Procter 
condemns the lie. 

To close with an American instance, " Madame Delphine," by George W. 
Cable. She is a quadroon, consequently her daughter Olive cannot legally 
m^rry a white man, Lemaitre. Madame Delphine perjures herself, swearing that 
Olive is not her daughter. She dies at the confessional, acknowledging her lie, 
on the evening of Olive's wedding-day. 

7. WJiat is the origin of the word " mascot'^ f 

The word "masque^^ in the French language means literally "masked," 
" covered," " concealed," but I find, upon looking at a French encyclopcedia, 
that it is also applied (from the derivation) to " one born with a caul." The old 
superstition attributes good fortune to the caul, and very high prices have been 
paid for one, the possessor being regarded as certain of good luck when he owns 
a caul. Of course the child fortunate enough to have been born with this lucky 



OUR ONE HUNDRED QUESTIONS. 427 

appendage would be regarded as especially favored, a " masque," who would be 
always fortunate and bring good fortune to others. 

In Brand's " Popular Antiquities" I find that in Scotland a caul is called a 
" holy cap" and a " fortunate hood." In France the superstition is proverbial, 
the expression " etre n6 coiff(§" being used to denote that a person is extremely 
fortunate. 

Another origin of the word " mascot" is as follows : 

There seems to be a legend prevalent in many countries that the seventh 
son of a seventh son will bring good luck, have powers of healing, etc. In Scot- 
land the "spae-wife" always announces herself as the seventh daughter of a 
seventh daughter to imply her mystic power. 

In France the seventh son of a seventh son was called a " marcou," branded 
with the fleur-de-lis, and supposed to be endowed with healing power. There 
was a famous one in Orleans called " Le beau Marcou," his power being sup- 
posed to be particularly strong during Holy Week. On Good Friday hundreds 
are said to have visited him between midnight and sunrise. From " marcou" 
might come " mascot ;" but this seems to me rather fanciful. 

According to Dies, " mascot" means a " witch," or, in a good sense, a fairy 
who brings good luck. 

Worcester gives " masca, a sorceress, — from the Goth." This might be the 
origin of mascot, — one who brought good fortune by magical powers. My own 
preference is for the first derivation, — from " masque." — Olive Oldschool. 

"ChiPs" answer is also very good, and furnishes some additional 
items as to the superstition of the caul : 

Mascot comes from the same root-word as our word mask, the French masque, 
the Spanish and Portuguese mascara, and the Arabic maskharat, — meaning a cover 
for the face. 

The word mascot was applied originally in France to one born with a caul. 
This was thought to be an omen of good luck to the possessor. 

The word has sprung into common use through Audran's popular opera, in 
which the heroine is a Mascot, — " a gift of God, — a child of great blessing, and 
one that will bring good luck to her family," etc. 

Ruddlman, in his Glossary to Douglas's Virgil, says, " In Scotland the women 
call a haly or sely how [i.e., holy or fortunate cap, or hood, or net) a film, or 
membrane, stretched over the heads of children new-born ; . . . and they give 
out that children so born will be very fortunate." Speaking of these cauls, which 
are generally like veils, masks, or hoods, Iliolan, Du Laurens, and other anato- 
mists believe that infants which are born thus [n'e coiffe) are " lucky," and super- 
stitiously attribute great virtues to them. All times and all countries acknowledge 
this superstition, ^lius Lampridius, in his History of Diadumcnus, who came 
to be the emperor Antoninus, remarked that " this emperor, who was born with a 
band or thin skin on the brow, in form of a diadem, from which he took his sur- 
name Diadum^ne, enjoyed perpetual felicity during all the coui-sc of his reign 
and life." 

The " wise women" (midwives) sell these cauls to lawyers, advocates, etc., 
who believe that they carry with them a persuasive force which neither judffe 
nor jury can resist. The ancient custom which decreed that judges sitting; in 
the King's Court should wear a white coif of silk may have taken" its rise Irom 
the superstition of carrying cauls as a charm. 

In Franco the expression '* tUrc 7ui coiffe" is proverbial to signify that a person 
is extremely fortunate. "This caul is estinuited as conferring some i)owcr of 
seeing into the future, lor good." " It is sold for magical uses." " It is an inlalli- 
blo i)reservative against drowning." 

Weston, in his "Moral Aj)h(»risnm from the Arabic," .8vo, London, ISOl, p. 
xii., gives the following: "The caul that enfolds the birth is the powerful gujinlian, 
like the seal-ring of the moinirch, for the attainment of the arch of heaven, where, 
in the car of a bright luminarv, it is crowned and revolveil." In a note lie says, 
"Tlio superstition of the caul comes from the lOast; tht-ir are jwrnvr/ irords'in 
Arabic/or if. It is not out of date with us among the people, ami we ofton «eo 
twonty-llvo and thirty guineas advertised for one." 



428 0^^ ONE HUNDRED QUESTIONS. 

8. Whence arose the expression " breaking a butterfly^^ f 

This phrase comes from the three-hundred-and-seventh line of Pope's " Epis- 
tle to Dr. Arbuthnot" (being the Prologue to the Satires) : " Who breaks a 
butterfly upon a wheel?" meaning, Who would take the trouble to destroy an 
insignificant, harmless insect on an instrument of torture, when it could be so 
easily crushed in some simpler manner? In China the expression is familiarized 
by the sayings, " He fells a tree to catch a blackbird," and " He shoots a sparrow 
with a cannon." The context all refers to Lord John Hervey, and the passage 
has been said to rank "among the deadliest pieces of satirical writing in the 
language." Lord Hervey, the victim whom Pope lashed so unmercifully as 
*' Lord Fanny" and " Sporus," was the son of a distinguished peer, a writer of 
able political pamphlets, and the favorite of George II. and Queen Caroline ; 
one who appeared to possess all that the world envies. But one bitter drop in his 
cup of life made every draught unpalatable. His health was feeble, he was sub- 
ject to epileptic fits, his temper was nervous and uncertain, and he regarded all 
about him with suspicion. Pope's venomous caricature of him contained suf- 
ficient truth to wound and cling to him. To prevent the frequent attacks of his 
disease, he made his diet chiefly of asses' milk and flour biscuits ; and to conceal 
the ghastly pallor of his complexion, he rouged with an unsparing hand. His 
literary style, though elegant, and at times even brilliant, was marred by a love 
of antithesis and exaggeration. Thus we see why Pope stigmatized him as 
"that mere white curd of asses' milk," "this painted child," "one vile antithe- 
sis," etc. The quarrel which gave rise to Pope's attack was occasioned, it is 
supposed, by Hervey's espousal of the cause of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, 
upon whom Pope had turned after a friendship of long standing. Although 
Hervey's " Memoirs," published in 1848, have given him the title of " the Bos- 
well of George II. and Queen Caroline," he has been handed down to posterity 
as the " Sporus" of Pope. This nickname is the more humiliating when we 
recall the character of the original Sporus. He was a Roman youth of mean 
origin, to whom Nero devoted himself. Dressed as a woman, and adopting the 
name of Sabina, he accompanied the emperor in all his journeys, and after the 
latter's death was handed over to his successor, and finally terminated a de- 
grading existence by committing suicide. — Davus. 

In searching for the answer to this question I have found the following 
curious story, entitled " Breaking a Butterfly on the Wheel." 

" In the republic of Quito, and some other parts of South America, there 
is a small insect called the comejen, whose destructive qualities are so active that 
in the space of one night it will penetrate the hardest wood or any other simi- 
lar substance. In that short period it has been known to penetrate through and 
through a bale of paper containing sixteen reams. . . . 

" In the archives of Quito there is a curious royal decree of Carlos III. re- 
specting this insect. A number of cases of gun-flints had been sent to Panama 
from Spain for the purpose of being forwarded to Lima, but their non-arrival at 
that place caused the viceroy to repeat his request to the court for the necessary 
supply. This gave rise to an investigation : the flints were traced to Panama, 
and the governor was ordered to account for them. In his answer to the minister 
he stated that the comejen had destroyed the cases in the royal magazine. The 
minister being ignorant of what the comejen was, an order was issued under the 
royal seal commanding the governor of Panama to apprehend the comejen, to 
form a summary process on the crimes he had committed, then to send the 
prisoner and documents to Spain, that he might be dealt with according to the 
extent of his criminality." 

In Lincolnshire, England, the first butterfly seen in spring should be crushed 
with the foot, insuring the crushing of all enemies during the year. — Gunn's 
Hill. 

9. Whai is the Saint Badddey Galcef 

Robert Baddeley, a low-comedian, attached for many years to the Drury 
Lane Theatre, London, died November 20, 1794, and left a peculiar will. 

He bequeathed his cottage to a theatrical fund, in trust, that there might be 



OUR ONE HUNDRED QUESTIONS. 429 

chosen four of the fund pensioners who might not object to living sociably together 
at Hampton (his home). He also requested that a sum of three pounds should 
be annually expended upon a cake, to be divided on Twelfth Night, in the green- 
room of the Drury Lane Theatre, among the actors. 

The first cake was cut on Twelfth Night, 1796, and on successive anniversa- 
ries there have gathered to celebrate its cutting many celebrated actors of the 
English stage, among them Mrs. Siddons, the Kembles, Mrs, .Jordan, Braham, 
and many others. At the cutting there was also offered a strange toast : " To the 
skull of the founder," — supposed to be a respectful allusion to the brains from 
whence issued this kind attention to the actors of Drury Lane. 

Twelfth Night, or Epiphany, has been celebrated for many years, throughout 
England, by the cutting of a bean cake, a cake in which a bean is cooked, the 
finder of which is made King of the night and the following day. It was, of 
course, in commemoration of this custom that Baddeley left this otherwise strange 
bequest. At present the cake-cutting has grown into a protracted feast, ending 
in a supper after the play. — Olive Oldschool. 

10. What was the Fortsas Catalogue f 

William Shepard's article on " Famous Hoaxes," in the present 
number of Lippineott^s, contains an account of this extraordinary sell. 
Some of the most intelligent and painstaking competitors failed to give 
a satisfactory answer to this question. The following by ^^ Olive Old- 
school" contains all the essential particulars : 

The publication in 1840 of a catalogue purporting to be that of the Count 
.1. N. A. de Fortsas created immense excitement among bibliophiles. This was 
a volume of only fourteen pages, and the count's collection consisted of only fifty- 
two books, but these were unique ; not one was mentioned by any previous bib- 
liographer; and these rare treasures were to be sold at Binche, a village in Bel- 
gium. Each bibliophile was trying to steal a march upon the rest in order to be 
possessed of some rare book. One bookseller came from Amsterdam just to see 
No. 75, — "Corpus Juris Civilis," printed by the Elzevrrs on vellum. The Prin- 
cess de Ligne, for the honor of her fiimily, wrote to purchase No. 48 at any 
price. The Roxburghe Club sent orders. M. Van de Weyer ordered Nos. 7, 8, 
12, 36, 47, 64, 78, 142. T^chener, half suspecting the joke, still sent commissions. 
The catalogue was printed in an edition of one hundred and thirty-two copies, 
of which two were upon vellum, ten upon colored paper, and one hundred and 
twenty upon white paper. 

The day before the sale the announcement was made that this wonderful 
library would not be sold, — that the people of Binche would buy it, and include 
it in the public library I Binche is an insignificant little village, and the idea of 
its purchasing this library of rare wonders Wiis absurd enough. 

The author of this most successful hoax was M. Ren6 Chalons, of Brussels; 
the publisher was " M. Emm. Hoyois, bibliophile, member of the Soci6t6 des 
Bibliophiles Beiges s6ant ^ Mons." 

M. Chalons and M. Hoyois, who had been warm personal friends, quarrelled 
afterwards over the question of a reissue of the catalogue. 

There is in the Congressional Library at Washington, D.C., u copy of the 
original " Fortsas Catalogue." 

11. Who was tlie probable original of Lancelot du Img? 

There is every reason to l)olieve that the historical Ijanoolot was 
King Mac), or Meh'uas, of liritain, who appears to have been elected 
by the native tril)es, in A.D. 5()0, after the triumph of the Saxons in 
southern Enghmd. Mae! in Welsh means a servant, and rAiurhU 
(diminutive of ancet) wouhl in the Romance toui^ue sii^iiity ** the little 
servant." Moreover, early Cymrie tradition makes Alael (he nephew 
of King Arthur, whose wife Guencver ho carriei.1 off. Arthur besieged 



430 OUR ONE HUNDRED QUESTIONS. 

him, was defeated, and concluded a disgraceful peace which restored 
him his wife. Like Lancelot, Mael closed his career in a convent. 

But the Mael of real life was a very different being from the courtly 
and polished Lancelot of romance and poetry. He Avas a coarse bar- 
barian, redoubtable in arms, and notorious for his crimes of unchaste 
violence, who seized Guenever' by lying naked under an ambush of 
leaves in the wood she was to pass through, then rushing out on her 
as a satyr, from whom her attendants fled in terror. 

Few of our correspondents mention this theory, which is certainly 
plausible, and is supported by Yillemarque and Henry Morley (" Eng- 
lish Writers before Chaucer'^). M. A., who alludes to a possible iden- 
tification between Lancelot and Mael, says that the latter's surname 
Paladr-ddellt "has the same meaning as Lancelot, — i.e., splintered 
lance." But Villemarqu^'s etymology is far more likely. M. A. also 
suggests that as Sir Thomas Malory finished his history of King 
Arthur " in the ninth year of King Edward IV.," the date of the 
battle of Barnet and of Edward's celebrated landing at Blackheath with 
only seven followers, we can scarcely doubt that in Lancelot's return 
from France attended by the same number of kings, and in Sir Ector's 
eulogy of the hero, the courtly knight intended a veiled compliment to 
his sovereign. 

The possibility of a classical prototype for Lancelot, suggested by 
comparative mythologists, has been treated by many competitors. Here 
is the answer by " One of a Thousand" : 

Paris of Troy was the probable original of Lancelot du Lac, the story of his 
life having many points of resemblance to the mediaeval hero, and Guinevere 
corresponds closely to Helen. Guinevere is called "a destroyer of many 
knights," and similar taunts were applied to Helen. Paris grows up in igno- 
rance of his father, so does Lancelot ; the ingratitude of Paris and his treachery 
in carrying off the wife of his host are rivalled by Lancelot's connection with the 
wife of his king and trusting chief. 

Max Miiller and George W. Cox both advance this theory, and say further 
that Paris is the Vedic Pani and Ravana. 

Rama, the seventh incarnation of Vishnu, marries Sita. Ravana, king of 
Lanka, loves Sita, and carries her away to the island where he dwells. Rama 
pursues them, and rescues Sita. 

Pani seduces Sarama in like manner. The whole story is finally reduced to 
a sun-myth. 

With regard to Paris, as compared with Lancelot, Cox says, in his "Popu- 
lar Romances of the Middle Ages," " We have falsehood and treachery on one 
side, and faithlessness on the other ; in other words, we have in Lancelot and Gui- 
nevere the counterparts of Sarama and the Panis, of Paris and Helen ; and the 
taking away of Guinevere from the court of Arthur, who had cherished him as 
his friend, answers to the taking away of Helen from Menelaos by the man in 
whom he had placed a perfect trust. The character of Lancelot precisely reflects 
that of Paris ; and the words of Menelaos before the walls of Ilion are echoed in 
those of Arthur in the supreme strife before the gates of Joyous Gard : * Fie on 
thy fair speech ; I am now thy mortal foe, for thou hast slain my knights and 
dishonored my queeu.' In short, Lancelot is throughout a man of fair words, 
who disclaims all thoudits of treason, even while he knows that he has shame- 
fully deceived his friend. It is the picture of Paris as drawn in the Iliad ; and 
if it be said that in that poem, as we have it, Paris does not exhibit the unfalter- 
ing courage or invincible strength of Lancelot, we have only to remember that 
the portrait given to us in our Iliad is not the only mythical picture of the 
treacherous son of Priam. {Note. — The story of the birth and early years of 
Paris, his irresistible prowess at games, his redoubtable exploits against thieves 



OUR ONE HUNDRED QUESTIONS. 431 

and evil-doers, are not less parts of the great myth of Paris, as it has come down 
to us, than those portions of it which are related in our Iliad.)" 

In an article on the Arthurian romances in the " Encyclopaedia Britannica," 
they are said to be in the main a recast of the legends of Charlemagne : " Lance- 
lot, Tristan, Gaurin, personify languor fatality, pleasure." These attributes 
would seem more appropriate to Paris than to Lancelot. Cox considers the 
latter to be substantially the same as Tristan (I believe). 

12. Who was Old King Cole, and what is the probable date of the 
nursery rhyme which celebrates him and his fiddlers three f 

Nearly all our correspondents agree with Halliwell in identifying 
this monarch of the nursery rhyme with Cole, Coel, Coil, or in Latin 
Coilus, the semi-mythical king of Britain who, according to the doubt- 
ful testimony of Eobert of Gloucester, Geoffrey of Monmouth, and other 
old chroniclers, succeeded Asclepiad on the throne of Britain about a.d. 
255, was the reputed father of St. Helena, and built the walls round the 
city of Colchester, — so named in his honor. In addition, ^' Eidon'' and 
others remind us that the Scotch have also an " Old King Coul" in their 
traditional history, who flourished in the fifth century and was the father 
of the great Finn MacCoul. The territory of Coila (Ayrshire) was 
under his rule, and the name of Coila is often poetically applied to the 
whole of Scotland. Green and Freeman both recognize as indubitable 
a British king called Cole or Coel, who ruled in the sixth century and 
was the founder of a short royal line. 

" Ad Astra per Aspera" throws out a suggestion that the " merry old 
souP' may be identified with Edwy, the brother of the Saxon king Ed- 
mund, surnamed Ironsides. This Edwy, on account of his great popu- 
larity with the peasants, bore the title of " King of the Chcrls/^ a 
designation implying no real dignity, but merely a nickname bestowed 
by a populace which loved him. The title might easily enough have 
been subsequently abbreviated to " King Cole" by the populace. 



M. A. thinks 

^ The character of King Cole was undoubtedly derived from King Ren6 of 
Anjou (1409-1480), who throughout a life of war and misfortunes found pleas- 
ure in the study of music and what we should call the drama. He composed 
music and poetry, and arranged splendid spectacles for his people. His ilescrip- 
tion of these "tournois" is still extant, and has been printed from the original 
manuscript in the Royal Library at l*aris. The rather caricatured portrait of 
him in Scott's " Anne of Geierstein" helps us to understand how he appeared 
to the English, who were unable to comj)rehend his Latin elasticity of tempera- 
ment, and mocked at his poverty and emi)ty titles ; for he was 

King of Nnploa, 
Of both tho Sicilies anil Jonisalcui, 
Yet nut ao wealthy as an Kngliah yooinan. 

" I^ibota'^ and otiiers s(»nd as an allornalivo answer the sn^r.^cstion 
tliat King Colo was identical with ^H)U\ Cole," a famous cloth-man- 
ufacturer of Jleading, one of the "Six Worthio Yeoinon of tlie 
West," whose name became proverbial through an oxtremeiy j)opular 
story of the sixteenth century, and appears in several plays, tho first of 
^vhich was published in 1G02. Deloney, an old rhronioler, describes 
the riding of Ifeniy J. towards Wales, and his meeting ovei* so many 
Vol. XLIL— 28 



432 OUR ONE HUNDRED QUESTIONS. 

wains of cloth, which he was told all belonged to Old Cole. In conse- 
quence of this, he sent for him and received him at court, 

Bibota, McNox, and several others refer to an amusing skit by 
Richard Grant White in the Galaxy y showing from the internal evidence 
of the ballad that King Cole was probably no other than the "Merry 
Monarch^^ Charles II., and that the nursery rhyme dates from his reign, 
when most of these old rhymes, and many of the so-called ancient 
ballads, really appeared. 

Mr. White's points [says " McNox"] were that King Cole's pipe fixed the 
date after Raleigh's introduction of tobacco, — i.e., after Elizabeth's reign ; that 
violin-players, or *' fiddlers," were not held in sufficient esteem to be musicians to 
a king, and, indeed, were scarcely known, before the time of Charles I. ; that 
Charles II. raised them to higher honor, and used to have a band of them play 
to him while at table ; moreover, that Charles was especially the " merry" king, 
and that the epithet " old" need not be taken as literally descriptive of the king's 
age here, any more than in Charles's well-known nickname " Old Rowley." 

But the pipe may mean a musical instrument ; and in any event it 
does not appear in the earlier version which Halliwell refers to the 
seventeenth century ; 

Good King Cole, 

He called for his bowl, 

And he called for his fiddlers three : 

And there was fiddle-fiddle, 

And twice fiddle-fiddle. 

For 'twas my lady's birthday ; 

Therefore we keep holiday 

And come to be merry. 

" The exact date of the song," says Bibota, " is unknown, but pai-t 
of the words are quoted by Dr. William King, who was born in 1633. 
The air, therefore, is certainly as old as the seventeenth century." 

13. With what saint may Mother Hubbard be identified, and whyf 

Several competitors have named St. Elizabeth, though acknowledg- 
ing with " Curious" that it is almost an insult to th^ sweetest of all 
the saints of the Roman calendar to give her name as the answer to 
this question. 

And yet [continues " Curious"] from the " Mater Pauperum" — " Die Mutter 
von Ungarn" — the transition to " Mother Hubbard" is simple enough. In the 
"cupboard was bare," of the nursery-tale, we find the "empty treasury" of 
Hungary, exhausted by Elizabeth to supply the wants of the poor. In her 
seeking clothing for " her poor dog," we see the fair saint giving away her 
own robes, — even tearing off her rich mantle to bestow upon a beggar. In the 
search " for white wine and red," we find Elizabeth's charity and visits to the 
hospitals which she had founded ; in the sickness of her four-footed companion, 
the sick and suffering whom Elizabeth relieved with her own hands, and the 
leprous child for whom she cared, laying him in her own bed. Even as in the 
nursery-tale Mother Hubbard thought of another, not of herself, so Elizabeth's 
unselfishness and self-denial shine forth like stars. The "bare cupboard" may 
also indicate the famine which afllicted Thuringia in 1226, which was followed 
by a i)lague, in which Elizabeth herself nursed the sufferers. She was born in 
1207', and died November 19, 1231, being canonized four years after her death. 
The most celebrated picture of Elizabeth is that painted by Murillo for the 
church of La Caridad (Charity) at Seville. 



OUR ONE HUNDRED QUESTIONS. 433 

Other theories are thus summed up by "Eidon," who is undoubtedly 
riglit in giving the preference to St. Hubert, — a theory first broached 
by Prof. John W. Hales in the Aihenseum, February 24, 1883 : 

The question of the identification of 

The widowed dame of Hubbard's ancient line 

with one of the saints of the calendar opens a wide field for conjecture. Do 
we find the prototype of our familiar " Mother Hubbard and her Dog" in St. 
Margaret and her dog, St. Collen and her cat, or — rash supposition ! — in St. 
Agnes and her lamb ? Probably in none of these, but rather in St. Hubert him- 
self, the patron of dogs and the chase. The grounds of this conjecture are these : 
The representations of the saints in painting and sculpture were familiar to a 
class which knew nothing of the orthodox legends concerning them. Among 
this class originated a large number of pseudo-legends, sometimes couched in 
rhyme, which were evidently framed to meet the vulgar understanding of the 
representation. St. Hubert is depicted in a long robe, — a veritable Mother 
Hubbard gown, in fact, — with long hair, so that the uninitiated observer might 
easily be doubtful as to his sex and make an old woman of him at a venture. 
Further, he was the patron saint of dogs, and was often represented with a 
canine attendant, so that the " prick-eared companion of the solitude" of the 
ancient dame was naturally assumed. St. Hubert was appealed to also to cure 
the ailments of a favorite or valuable dog, and bread blessed at his shrine waa 
believed to cure hydrophobia. Given the character popularly accepted aa 
Mother (or Saint) Hubbard (or Hubert), and the attendant dog, may not the rest 
of the tale be left to the untutored but active imagination of some rhymester or 
story-teller of the village green or servants' hall, which has often produced even 
more startling results from much slighter material ? 

It may be remarked, in passing, that the legend of St. Dominick and his 
dog, who were starving and had their larder replenished by supernatural means, 
doubtless was insensibly woven into the foundation of the nursery-tale in question. 

14. What is the origin of the phrase " The Queen of Spain has no 
legs'' f 

The following answer, by " One of a Thousand," is similar in sub- 
stance with a hundred others, although the name of the monarch is 
variously given : 

Philip III. of Spain, surnamed "The Pious" (1578-1621), married Margaret 
of Austria April IS, 1690. This queen on lier first entry into Spain passed 
through a town famous for its manufacture of silk stockings ; the authorities, 
wishing to compliment her, sent her a costly pair as a present, which was, how- 
ever, indignantly refused by tlie queen's chamberlain, who informed the delega- 
tion that "the Queen of Spain had no legs." The Queen, on hearing of this 
remark, burst into tears, exclaiining, "I will go home again! [ would never 
have come to Sj)ain had I known that my legs were to be cut oft"!" When the 
story was repeated to her husband, he is said to have laughed for oneof tho only 
two times in his life. Since then there has been a popular saying that otlicially 
tlie C^ueen of S{)ain has no legs. Eti(iuetto was so strict at this time that IMiilip'a 
death is said to have been caused by his sitting too long hy an excessively hot 
fire because the proper ollicial to remedy the trouble was absent. 

The story, like the story of Philip's death, is probably apocryphal, 
invented to burlesque the rioid etitjuette oi" the Spanish court. "The 
custom,'^ says "incognita," '* of concealing (he feet of Spanish women, 
dates back to the Spanish Goths and (icrniaiis descrilunl by Tacitus, 
Mcdiieval artists wcr(» forbidden to paint (lie feet of (lie Viruin, and it 
was contrary to court eti(piet(e to allude even to (he jM>ssibility of the 



434 OUR ONE HUNDRED QUESTIONS. 

Queen of Spain having legs." It is said that Mil-abeau, when offered a 
petition to be laid at the feet of majesty, replied, " Majesty has no feet/^ 
" Mary Andrews" has another story to tell in explanation of the 
proverb : 

This saying probably arose from the strict court etiquette of Spain, which 
forbade any man whatsoever on pain of death to touch the queen of Spain, and 
especially her foot. The queen of Charles II. almost lost her life from this 
custom. She was fond of riding, and, having received several fine horses from 
Andalusia, she had a mind to try one; but had no sooner mounted than the 
horse pranced, and, throwing her, dragged her over the ground, her foot having 
caught in the stirrup. All the court were spectators, but dared not touch her on 
account of this court rule. Charles II. saw the accident and the danger his wife 
was in, and called out vehemently ; but the inviolable custom and untouchable 
foot restrained the Spaniards from lending a helping hand. However, two gentle- 
men, Don Luis de las Torres and Don Jaime de Soto Mayor, resolved to run 
all hazards despite the law of the queen's foot, the law delpi'epor la reina. One 
caught hold of the horse's bridle and the other of the queen's foot, and in taking 
it out of the stirrup put one of his fingers out of joint. This done, the dons im- 
mediately went home. The queen, recovering from her fright, desired to see her 
deliverers. A young lord told her majesty they were obliged to flee from Madrid 
to escape the punishment they deserved. The queen, who was a Frenchwoman, 
knew nothing of the prerogative of her heel, and thought it a very impertinent 
custom that men must be punished for saving her life. She easily obtained their 
pardon from the king. 

15. Who was Rubezahl f 

A number of answers were selected as worthy of publication. 
"Davus," "Veritas," "Box 211," "Owego," "Mayflower," "Hohen- 
fels," "GEdipus," "McNox," "Ulm," "Lillian Walsh," "Ray le 
Brun," " Queue," " Elsie Marley," " Quill,"— any one of these, or a 
score of others, would do to quote. Instead, we Avill make up a com- 
posite article from the contributions of "One of a Thousand" and 
" Olive Oldschool," leaving out what is mere reduplication, and insert- 
ing that part of each article which is complementary to the other. 

Here is " One of a Thousand's" description of the gnome ; 

A famous spirit of the Riesengebirge (Giant Mountains), which separate 
Prussian Silesia from Germany, corresponding to the English Puck. He is cele- 
brated in countless tales and ballads, which represent him as fond of playing 
tricks, sometimes good-natured, sometimes malicious, leading travellers astray, 
laming horses, breaking wagon-wheels or axle-trees, blocking up the roads, raising 
tempests to bewilder his victims, etc. He punishes the wicked, hating pride, in- 
justice, covetousness, and disobedience, but is always ready to help the poor and op- 
pressed, guides lost wayfarers, and rewards the virtuous. His presence is invoked 
at peasant weddings, where a ribbon given by him is transformed into a costly 
gift. In one of the stories of his munificence, a black pudding which he gives 
a workman is found to be filled with gold pieces ; and others relate how seem- 
ingly worthless presents from him, such as sloes, skittles, leaves, or curds in the 
milk-pan, tijirn into gold. Once he aided an innocent man, condemned to death, 
to escape, and, assuming his form, was hanged in his stead, which penalty, need- 
less tcj say, did no injury to the goblin. 

He appears under various forms, as a miner, huntsman, monk, dwarf, giant, 
or most often as a sooty collier, with long red beard, fiery eves, and a pole like a 
weaver's beam; sometimes as an animal, dragon, wolf, or bear, or the fabulous 
leopard-like hyson. It is dangerous to hunt on his mountains, for he punishes 
interference with his sport, and also to call him Rubezahl ; instead the peasants 
allude to him cautiously aa "The Lord of the Mountains," "The Warden of the 
March," or " Herr Johannes." 

The legends of this mountain-goblin are to be found in " Volksmarchen der 



SONG. 435 

Deutschen," 5 vols., 1782, by Johann Karl August Musaeus (1735-1787), who 
collected them from the peasantry ; the same whom Kotzebue called " the good 
Musaeus." Some of them have been translated by Mark Lemon under the title 
of " Legends of Number Nip" (1864), and translations of single tales have 
occasionally appeared in periodicals, etc. 

The origin of his name, both " Davus" and " Olive Oldschool" tell 
us, is etymologically obscure ; but the following is " Olive OldschooFs" 
synopsis of the legend which popularly explains it : 

Once upon a time this " Lord of the Mountain," as he called himself, be- 
came enamoured of a lady of noble birth, and persuaded her to go with him to 
his mountain-home. In order to supply her with servants, he planted turnips, 
which when they had sprouted he changed into little people. After a while the 
lady began to sigh for companions : so the devoted lover, anxious to please her, 
planted more turnips, which he promised to change into people when they 
should have sprouted. The lady, becoming impatient while waiting for the 
turnips to grow, ran off one day while her lover was looking after and counting 
his turnips. From this he obtained the name of Rubezahl ("turnip-counter"), 
which name, however, always angers him, as it reminds him of how he waa 
tricked. 

Gehe has taken this legend for the plot of his opera " Der Berggeist" (" The 
Mountain-Sprite"), and Fouqu6 and Menzel have introduced it into their dra- 
matic stories. 

William J. Thorns, in his interesting book " Three Notelets on Shakespeare," 
says, " The readers of the beautiful German tales of Musaeus doubtless remember 
his story of Rubezahl, or, as the translator of the selection of them (said to be 
no less a person than Mr. Beckford) which appeared in 1791, under the title of 
' Popular Tales of the Germans,' anglicized his name, ' Number Nip.' They 
cannot have been otherwise than struck with the resemblance between this trick- 
some spirit of the Giant Mountains and our own Puck, but may probably have 
ascribed no small portion of this resemblance to the manner in which Musaeus 
has told his story. The resemblance is, however, very great, and is perhaps still 
more so when read in the simple legends in which Rubezahl figures, than in 
Musaeus's witty and spirited tales. These traditions were first collected by 
Praetorius, in the middle of the seventeenth century, in a work entitled 
' Daemonologia Riibinzalii Silesii,' the third edition of which waa published at 
Leipsic in 1668." 

An extract from this book, too long to insert here, "seems to establish 
the resemblance between Puck and Rubezahl, and to show that the transforma- 
tion which poor Bottom underwent was a common incident in works of popular 
fiction." 



SONO. 

BE firm, my heart, nor let the world torment thee ; 
Be true, my heart, nor do thyself torment; 
liCt not a windy fortune cry she rent tliw, 

Nor be with wine or rebel jKissions s])en(. 
Bear tliou against the wind, a banner flying 

Before our army with (jnick folds of fnry ; 
Or a storm-breasting eagK\ cloudy, crying, 

With wings of (hirkncsn and a bead all hoary; 
Or the storm's self, all mighty in its anger : 
A Storm, a Banner, an I'/igle, and a Clangor ! 

Langdon Elwyn MitchrU, 



436 OUR MONTHLY GOSSIP. 

OUE MOISTTHLT GOSSIP 
WITH EEADERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 



The Prize Questions, to which a fresh instalment of answers is presented in 
this number, seem at least to have given a great deal of amusement to a great 
many people, and possibly a good deal of instruction as well. A large number 
of the competitors, even those who, from the limitations of their library or of 
their available time, hardly dared hope for a prize, have thanked the Gossip for 
the many hours of real delight they have spent in hunting up answers. Here, 
on the other hand, is a good-natured account, by one of our most intelligent 
contributors, of the trials and difficulties in the way of the inquirer. 

" Some of youi* readers may care to hear of the trials and tribulations which 
a country cousin, has had in seeking for knowledge.^ How one short moment 
can change the tenor of one's life ! A few months ago, I was accounted a moder- 
ately sensible middle-aged woman ; 7iow I am looked upon as a monomaniac, and 
it will require years of extreme sober-mindedness to regain my former reputation, 
if I ever wholly do. Lippincott must bear the whole blame, for publishing what 
a friend called ' a fiendish set of questions.' They enchanted me like a siren 
when L first overlooked them, because I knew none of them, and my curiosity 
was excited. I began to question every one. One person said, confidentially, 
* My cousin Ann, in the States, can tell you all about Mother Hubbard, and I 
am sure my friend Lucy in St. John must know all about the peacock's feather, 
because she is afraid to have one in her house.' Letters went forthwith to the 
two parties. Weeks after came kind answers, regrets, but no information. One 
busy friend made fair promises, but, like a Waterbury watch, needed winding up 
every time I met him ; but, bless his heart ! his books have been invaluable to me. 
One sent me wrong answers, rather than confess his ignorance. One gentleman, 
who was considered a fount from whence all knowledge flowed, was consulted, but 
these subjects were the only ones of which he was in almost total ignorance. I 
heard of a gentleman in Halifax who was such a close student of Thackeray 
that he almost knew his secret thoughts ; wrote to him ; a polite answer came say- 
ing he was the wrong man, referring me to another, to whom I wrote ; he was 
charmingly interested, longed for information on the subject as much as I did, 
consulted every literary person of his acquaintance in the city, and sailed for 
England, promising to consult others there ; if he has any light upon the Thack- 
eray questions it is still locked in his own bosom. I have not heard from him 
since. 

" Then there stole over me sweet recollections of days spent with a friend of 
undoubted ability in Washington, of talks about books, of hours spent in libra- 
ries. Happy thought! I wrote to her of my difficulties, asked if she would join 
me in the quest ; her answer came prompt and firm, * I am with you for the 
fray ;* and my mind became easier. I found as many as I could, as each set of 
questions came, and sent the rest to her. One gray-liaired pomposity thought 
the questions ' very silly,' ' a waste of time ;' another said, * they seemed framed 



OUR MONTHLY GOSSIP. 437 

on purpose to puzzle. What odds about King Cole and Mother Hubbard V for- 
getting that some of the profoundest minds of the day are making folk-lore a 
study. My children called me a * note-gatherer/ refused flatly to carry a missive 
to any one, unless assured that a * Lippincott question' did not lurk within. My 
husband rolled on the floor, in agony, when one of them was mentioned, and 
threatened a divorce ; my best friends turned street-corners when they caught a 
glimpse of me coming ; my known correspondents trembled when they saw my 
handwriting, my unknown ones wondered who that crooked-writing crank could 
be. I found myself only valuing persons according to their ability to answer 
questions, regarding them simply as notes, myself as a query. The trial of veri- 
fying slip-shod quotations was no small one. When college professors failed, I 
turned to a friend in a small country village, who gave me much valuable in- 
formation. I have been snubbed and frowned upon, helped and smiled upon, 
alternately, till the extremes of fears and hopes have fairly addled my brain. 
My assisting friend wrote, * Sixty boys are nagging sixty fathers for the Barbara 
Frietchie answer,' and adds an account of her trials. Whenever I have wished 
to consult fathers, babes have either just been born or babes have died. Libraries 
which have remained in statu quo since the foundation of the government, be- 
came chaos and were to ^e moved, if I wished to get access to them ; people who 
knew and could help me were enlisted for others ; people who knew little and 
pretended to know a heap snubbed me and the whole business, denouncing the 
questions as rubbish, time wasted, time much better spent in acquiring a language. 
Then again friends did help me cheerfully, thinking, ' Poor old lady, it amuses 
her.' 

" After I had safely consigned my answers to the post-office, wishing them 
' bon voyage' across the rough old Bay of Fundy, I thought, * Now for a good 
night's restl' But vain hope! sleep did not flee, but in my dreams all the 
characters visited me. The Gabbon Saer flirted with the Lady of Kynast. The 
* Frost' and 'Vintage' saints peered from corners upon the archangel Abdiel, 
and would not tell their names. The Brides of Enderby, in their wedding- 
gowns, smiled upon the Mascot. All the 'broken butterflies' cried for their 
pretty wings. Warrington and Blanche Amory feasted ofl* the Baddeley cake. 
Lancelot du Lac and King Cole carried old Mother Hubbard and her dog in au 
arm-chair. Soapy Sam and Sam Weller played chess. The rest of the characters 
heaved sighs as profound as ever the spirits in Limbo did for the blessings of 
Paradise; and, finally, all who were mentioned in the questions donned long 
black veils and danced in a circle on the Great Wall of China, and then were 
exiled to the islands of Jack-a-Dan and Kick-em-Jenny. I have been threatened 
with brain-fever, and ordered a trip to Europe, — my ambition for years : so, if I 
don't get a Lippincott prize, I still shall have proved that ' man may have his 
willj but woman has her way.^ So three cheers for Lippincott / 

Was Holgcr Danske, whose name gives the title to one of Andersen's " Tales," 
an historical character? J. W. 

Ogier or Olger the Dane [Fr. Ogier le Dnnois ; Dan, Holgcr Danske ; II. 
Uggcro or OggcroJ was a famous hero of Carlovingian romance, and one of tlie 
Twelve Paladins. According to the most usual tradition, he roroivod his sur- 
name from his DuniHli birth, though some authorities cluini that it i^ a contrac- 
tion of L'Ardonnois, and that ho was a native of the Ardennes, while others 
again represent him as originally a Saracen, who, being couvorted to Christianity, 



438 OUR MONTHLY GOSSIP. 

was informed by his quondam associates that he would be damned, whence he 
was facetiously styled Le Damn6 by his French comrades. A not very successful 
attempt has been made to identify him with the Helgi of the Edda. Under any 
aspect Ogier seems to be a purely mythical character. His deeds of prowess are 
celebrated in the cycle of romances relating to Charlemagne, in two poetical 
romances of the thirteenth century, " Les Enfances d'Ogier," by Adenes, which 
narrates the events of his youth, and " La Chevalerie d'Ogier de Danemarche," 
by Raimbert, which tells of his quarrel with his royal master Charlemagne, and, 
more fully, in the anonymous prose romance " Ogier le Danois." 

In Denmark this hero has been accepted as a national patron, and, under 
the name of Holger Danske, has won for himself a distinct individuality which 
presents only faint traces of resemblance to the original French legends. Ac- 
cording to mediaeval Danish ballads and romances, Holger was indeed a Paladin 
of France, but his greatest fame was won under the Danish standard. He made 
a crusade into India, and fell in love with the heathen princess Gloriani, but she 
preferred Prince Carvel, and Holger vowed he would never love another. After 
filling Europe and Asia with the fame of his exploits, he disappeared, and is 
said to be still lying in a magic slumber in the vaults of the castle of Elsinore, 
there to remain till Denmark shall need his aid. 

Once, a Danish peasant, wandering through the dungeons of the castle, came 
upon a huge oaken door, and drew out the bar that secured it. Instantly the 
door swung slowly inward, while from the gloom came forth a mighty voice, 
asking, " Is it time ?" The faint light that entered through the door-way revealed 
a giant form reclining againSt the wall, arrayed in rusty armor, and with a long 
white beard overspreading his ample breast. Again the question was repeated, 
and the peasant, rallying his courage, answered, "No." "Give me thy hand, 
then," said the figure. The other, unwilling to trust his hand in that tremendous 
grasp, extended the iron bar. Holger (for it was he) gave it a grip which left 
the print of his fingers in the iron as if it had been clay, and exclaimed, with a 
grim smile, " Ha ! I see there are still men in Denmark ; I may rest yet awhile !" 

Like other popular heroes, Holger has been magnified by the folk-lore of the 
peasantry into a giant of enormous size. Twelve tailors, says one legend, once 
came to take his measure for a new suit of clothes. As they were perched on 
various parts of his body, one of them slipped, and pricked the hero's ear with 
his scissors. Holger, thinking it was a fly, lifted his hand and crushed the luck- 
less tailor to death between his thumb and forefinger. 

In answer to " C. G.'s" question in your April number, " What is the differ- 
ence between a member and an oflicer of the French Academy?" I would say 
that there is not such a thing as an " officer" of the French Academy. There is 
the title of " Ofiicier d'Instruction publique," and the Government gives this title 
to any one upon whom it wishes to confer an honor and to whom it seems too 
great an honor to confer the decoration of the " L^ion d'Honneur." It is usually 
given to professors or literary men, though occasionally to commercial men. 

The title of " Officier d'Acad6mie" is less than the above, and generally only 
given to professors who have taught for a long time ; " Academic" here has not 
any connection with the " Academic Fran9aise," which consists only of the forty 
immortals, but it may be compared with English universities, several colleges 
and faculties being united under one institution and called an "Academic." 
There is the " Academic de Paris," the " Academic de Lyon," etc., etc. The 



OUR MONTHLY GOSSIP. 439 

Government chooses the " officiers d' Academic," and gives the title as a reward, 
but only to professors ; there is not any examination for it. 

One says, " memhre de T Academic Fran9aise," which is a little higher than 
any of the above ; or, " membre" of one of the four sections of the " Institut de 
France," — 1, " Academic des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres," 2, " Acad6mie des 
Sciences morales et politiques," 3, " Acad6mie des Sciences," and, 4, " Acad6mie 
des Beaux -Arts." 

To be a member of the " Academic Frangaise," or of either of the other 
four, is either a literary or scientific or artistic honor ; and a new member to 
either is elected only by its own members ; the Government has nothing at all to 
do with these " Academies," or with electing their members. 

"Luigi." 

Who was Svend Faelling ? W. E. T. 

Svend Faelling is a hero of popular Scandinavian folk-lore. He was born 
in the village of Faelling, and, as the roads were at that time greatly infested 
with trolls and other supernatural beings, he undertook the office of letter-carrier. 
There are many stories of his encounters with these uncanny people, one of 
which is interesting for its similarity to Tam O'Shanter's famous adventure. 
Riding home one night, he came upon a number of EUe-maids, who danced 
round and round him. One damsel reached him a drinking-cup, which Svend 
took, but warily flung its contents over his shoulder, singeing the hair off his 
horse's back where it fell. Then, with the cup in his hand, he clapped spurs to 
the steed and rode off, with the Elle-maid in hot pursuit. He dashed across a 
stream of running water, and, as she could not follow him, she conjured him to 
give her back the horn, promising him twelve men's strength in exchange. On 
regaining the cup she kept her promise, and Svend was consequently able to 
perform many wonderful feats, which made his name great in the world. In 
Zealand Svend is represented as an enormous giant, and a hill is pointed out 
near Steenstrup on which he used to sit while washing his hands and feet in the 
sea, a quarter of a mile distant. Grimm identifies this hero with Sigurd. 

The meaning of Felihre (p. 170 of your current volume) is very clear. 
Felihrc is composed of "/e" (the Provenjal expression for ^^faire^* = make) and 
" libre" (the Provencal expression for " /wre" = book). Felibre means, there- 
fore, literally " book-maker,'^ — that is to say, in the sense of writer and author^ 
not iu the sporting sense. A. H. 

Who was the original of Kingsley's Saunders Mackaye? W. O. T. 

Saunders Mackaye, in Kingsley's "Alton Locke," the ^philosophic Scot<:h 
bookseller, who occupies himself in denouncing things and ])eoplo with savago 
humor, is doubtless drawn from Carlyle. Froude tolls ua Carlyle so dominated 
Kingsley that after visiting him Kingslcy would unconsciously talk Carlyloso for 
hoi;rs; and it must have been under the influence of this mood that Mackaye 
was evolved. Carlylo's own criticism on (he ciiaractcr is inttMwting. "Saunders 
Mackaye," he says, "my invaluahic couiitiynian in this book, is nearly poifoct; 
indeed, I greatly wonder how you did contrive to manage hiu). His very dialect 
is as if a native had done it, and the whole existence of the rugged old hero is a 
wonderfully splendid and coherent piece of Scotch bravura." 



440 BOOK-TALK. 

BOOK-TALK. 



A MONTH or two ago the Reviewer made a general Apologia for not criticising 
certain books, on the ground that it might pain their authors to be told 
what he conceived to be the truth. Yet, after all, isn't it rather a curious weak- 
ness in human beings to care for one another's opinions? Why should Jones 
mind what you or I think of him, or say of him, when you and I are almost cer- 
tain to be wrong ? Nay, why should he mind what the majority think of him, 
when the majority are usually wrong ? what the cultured minority think of him, 
when the cultured minority are seldom right? what an entire generation think 
of him, when the next generation may reverse the verdict? 

An accurate history of criticism, for example, would be a delightful burlesque 
upon the fallibility of human judgment: only the historian should owe no 
fealty to what is current, he should stand so far apart from present human 
thought that all its most cherished conclusions should appear to him only shift- 
ing waves in an ocean of folly, — should recognize that our moralities may be 
vices, our vices virtues, our orthodoxies follies, our rascals heroes, our master- 
pieces daubs, our Shakespeares and Goethes and Virgils and Dantes the puerile 
intelligences that their contemporaries mostly believed them to be. 

Let us take the case of Amelie Rives's "The Quick or the Dead?" Here 
and there a voice has been raised in its favor, here and there a critic has pro- 
claimed that it is a work of real power and genius, but the majority are against 
it: the burlesquer and the caricaturist and the chivalric penny-a-liner seem for 
the moment to have carried the day. The opinion of the majority has little 
value, but the opinion of an individual has even less. Therefore the Reviewer, 
instead of saying that he thinks "The Quick or the Dead?" is instinct with 
power, that it has the worldly-foolish sincerity of genius, that it throws a lurid 
yet none the less a searching light into the awful deeps of two souls (exceptional, 
perhaps, but not ignoble souls) weltering in the strongest of human passions, 
and that the very frankness of its revelations is better than the timid concessions 
of so-called realists to the contemporary Anglo-Saxon attitude towards social 
questions, — instead of saying all this, which would express only his individual 
opinion, the Reviewer will appeal to literary history, and show why, holding that 
opinion, the fact that the critics are generally against him only increases his 
calm and serene confidence in his own superior wisdom. 

The critics have always been against any new force in life or literature. For 
the critical is essentially the conservative, the Tory element in human nature, 
— the respecter of orthodoxies and conventions. The critical mind must have 
some fixed standard, some inflexible rule, by which to judge. It must love the 
right. It must hate the wrong. But Nature has no fixed standard, no inflexible 
rule, no right, no wrong : 

Known yet ignored, nor divined, nor unguessed. 
Such is Man's law of life. Do we strive to declare 

What is ill, what is good in our spinning ? Worst, best, 
Change hues of a sudden; now hero and now there 

Flits the sign which decides; all about yet nowhere. 

Sc sing Browning's Fates. And some humbler poet (whose name the Reviewer 
would be glad to learn) has put the same thought into these words : 



BOOK-TALK. 441 

In men whom men declare divine 

I see so much of sin and blot, — 
In men whom others class as ill 
I see so much of goodness still,— 
I hesitate to draw the line 

Where God has not. 

Now, if the critic were not wiser than God he would cease to exist. He mttst 
draw lines, he must apply to present performances the tests which represent the 
accumulated experiences of the past. He must praise, he must blame. And be- 
cause he does these things he justifies his existence. The Whig welcomes Christ, 
the Tory retains him. Towards the Whigs of the past the Tory can do some- 
thing like justice, for it is he who profits most by the lessons of the past. The 
Whig has his eye on the fature, he is a little too impatient of the past ; in last 
year's harvest he would sacrifice tares and wheat alike. . To contemporary ortho- 
doxies, though they owe their inception to Whigs of former days, he is apt to 
be unjust, for he is busy with heterodoxies which shall become the orthodoxies 
of the future. 

Grammar, rhetoric, logic, rhythm, dogma, — all these mirages of the Infinite 
are the proper elements for the Tory ; the Whig is absorbed in the efibrt to grasp 
the Infinite itself The Tory is Wagner, the Whig Faust. In the former the 
intellect predominates, in the latter the soul, — at once the highest and the lowest 
in man, the First and the Last. Instinct was born before Keason, and still outruns 
the later, aad in one sense the higher, development. The intellect has built up 
all social systems, all conventions, proprieties, and orthodoxies, in the efibrt to 
realize the dreams of the soul, but the soul recognizes their futility, sees that 
they are shadow, not substance, mirage, not reality, and is constantly engaged 
in reaching out fOr a higher ideal. 

In the presence of men of exquisite literary instincts, men like Howells and 
James and Daudet, in whom the intellect dominates the soul, whose genius runs 
in the old grooves sanctioned by canon and convention, the critic is rarely at a 
loss. He has a rule and measure by which he can test them and determine their 
value. He is always the first to welcome them : his judgment is ahead of the 
public judgment. But in the presence of the great original force that transcends 
rule and custom, that rejects the past and prophesies the future, the critic is for 
the time being utterly at a loss. Only two such forces have appeared in America, 
— Walt Whitman and Emerson. Both fared badly with the critic in their earlier 
days, both reached the unliterary or at least the uncritical })ublic before thoy 
won over the lettered minority. The New York Nation is justly looked upon aa 
one of our highest critical authorities. As clever an article as it ever printed was 
a slashing review of Whitman's "Leaves of Grass" some time after the appear- 
ance of that ei)och-making volume. It said some things that were true, many that 
were witty. Tlio true things and the witty things are alike forgotten. " Leavea 
of Grass" is recognized as a monumental addition to American literature. 
Emerson's " Jirahma," the most significant short poem ever written in thia 
country, was laughed at from tiie Alliinlic to the raeific; tjje funny men of tho 
press found it an inexhaustible subject for satire, juirody, burlesque; tho eritica 
joined in the laugh; by advice of his publishers Emerson omitted it from tho 
first collection of his poems. Satires, parodies, burlesques, and oritieisnis have 
alike disappeared and left not a wrack behind, — and not only no collection of 



442 BOOK-TALK. 

Emerson's poems, but no general compendium of English poetry, is complete 
without " Brahma." 

In England one might make a choice collection of similar mistaken criticisms. 
The Athenceum has always been an authority in literary matters, but the AthencBum 
thought Carlyle was a madman, discoursing nonsense, and the Athenceum voiced 
almost the unanimous critical opinion of the period. For many years the 
Edinburgh Review and the Quarterly Review were the acknowledged guides of 
public opinion in literary matters. The Edinburgh Review advised Byron to 
quit versifying, told Wordsworth he would never do, thought Goethe was a writer 
whom no gentleman could tolerate, and deemed Ruskin a fool. The Quarterly 
Review characterized Shelley's "Prometheus Unbound" as "drivelling prose 
run mad," and his " Revolt of Islam" as " insupportably dull ;" looked upon 
Keats's " Endymion" as "* gratuitous nonsense ;" said of Dickens, " he has risen 
like a rocket, and he will come down like a stick ;" sneered with clumsy irony at 
" the peculiar brilliancy" of " the gems that irradiate the poetical crown" of that 
"singular genius" Mr. Alfred Tennyson ; and thought that if that wicked book 
"Jane Eyre" were written by a woman, it must be by "one who for some 
sufficient reason has forfeited the society of her sex." 

A good friend of the Reviewer, who admires Am^lie Rives but regrets " The 
Quick or the Dead ?" writes that " it is its utter absurdity which amuses people 
whom the mere shock of its immorality would have alienated." Well, it was the 
utter absurdity of Wordsworth, Goethe, Emerson, Ruskin, and Whitman, which 
amused their early critics. And as to immorality, have not " Wilhelm Meister," 
" Jane Eyre," " The Scarlet Letter," " Pendennis," " Elsie Venner," all been 
accused of immorality by conscientious exquisites in the past? Let us make the 
analogy more complete. Amelie Rives's English has been lavishly criticised. 
' Now, if we turn to the Quarterhfs essay on " Endymion" we find exactly the 
same sort of criticism. After asserting that Keats cannot write a sentence or spin 
a line, the Quarterly goes on to find fault with the new words with which, " in im- 
itation of Mr. Leigh Hunt, he adorns our language. We are told that ' turtles 
passion their voices;' that ' an arbor was nested^ and a lady's locks * gordian' d-up ;* 
and to supply the place of the nouns thus verbalized, Mr. Keats, with great fe- 
cundity, spawns new ones ; such as ' men-slugs and human serpentry ;^ the * honey- 
feel of bliss ;' * wives prepare needments /' and so forth. Then he has formed new 
verbs by the process of cutting oflf their natural tails, the adverbs, and affixing them 
to their foreheads ; thus ' the wine out-sparkled,' ' the multitude up-followed.' But 
if he sinks some adverbs in the verbs, he compensates the language with adverbs 
and adjectives which he separates from the parent stock. Thus, a lady whispers 
*pantingly and close,' makes 'hushing signs,' and steers her skiflf into a 'ripply 
cove.' " 

Now, of course all this does not prove that because Am61ie Rives has been 
attacked and criticised she is therefore a great genius, otherwise the Sweet Singer 
of Michigan might readily put in a claim on similar grounds. But it does show 
the valuelessness of contemporary criticism. And if a man believes in Miss 
Rives, he need not be disturbed in any way by contemporary criticism. He 
need only bide his time, in full confidence that a dozen or fifteen years hereafter 
he will have the opportunity to evidence his magnanimity by refraining from 
the exasperating " Didn't I tell you so ?" 



BOOK-TALK. 443 

Edgar Saltus is often classed with Am^lie Eives as an offender against public 
morals. But there is a well-marked distinction between them. Miss Rives has 
doubtless been surprised and shocked to find herself improper. Mr. Saltus is 
brilliant and audacious, the Anglo-Saxon prudery amuses, its hypocrisy offends 
him, and he takes a mischievous delight in making the Philistine world open its 
startled eyes. But in his last book, "Eden" (Belford, Clarke & Co.), he has 
written a story that can offend no one. It is a simple story, apparently, yet as 
full of surprises as an electrical jar, and is told in a style that is the despair of a 
Keviewer anxious to hurry through his work : not a line can he skip, for fear of 
missing some delicious epigram or well-turned phrase. 

"Mr. Meeson's Will" (Harpers) is a good example of how a writer with the 
art of narration and few other literary gifts can hold a reader's attention. Mr. 
Eider Haggard has stolen his plot from a French source, and spoiled it in the 
stealing, his characters are well-worn types in fiction, his philosophy is of the 
weakest, and the main object of the book, which is to teach the wicked publisher 
how to conduct his business on a more generous basis, shows a naive and pre- 
posterous ignorance that is too amusing to be ever offensive ; yet with all these 
faults you read the book through in a half-hour, and though you say to yourself 
that the time has been wasted you know in your heart that it has passed more 
rapidly (and perhaps more pleasantly) than if it had been devoted to some more 
improving study. " Maiwa's Revenge" (same publishers) is another new novel 
by Haggard, in which our old friend Alan Quatermain makes a reappearance. 
There are some vivid battle-scenes ; but, to tell the truth, Alan is getting to be a 
bore. Didn't he die in some former book? For Jesu's sake, Mr. Haggard, 
forbear to disturb his bones. ^ 

"A Winter Picnic," by J. and E. E. Dickinson and S. E. Dowd (Holt), is 
described by its sub-title as " The Story of a Four Months' Outing in Nassau, told 
in the Letters, Journals, and Talk of Four Picnicers." It is chatty and rather 
entertaining. The same publishers send us "In Hot Haste," by Mary E. 
Hullah, a good story of German life. Is it a translation ? 

All of us who take a pride in the national game of base-ball are glad to 
know that among the professional brotherhood so cultured a gentleman as lilr. 
John Montgomery Ward may be found. His book entitled " Base-Ball. How to 
become a Player. With the Origin, History, and Explanation of the Game" 
(Athletic Publishing Co.) is a brochure of unusual interest, written in plain, 
straightforward, yet excellent English, and containing a great deal of sensible 
advice and reflection, — the product of many years of training and experience ou 
a mind that sees below the surface and co-ordinates facts into philosophy. 

Mr. Andrew Lang is a perpetual nnirvel. Is there nothing he can't do, one 
whispers, nothing he doesn't know? Ho is poet, novelist, critic, wit, essayist, 
philosopher, and comparative mythologi.st, and he adorns everything he touches 
in any one of these capacities. His edition of " Perrault's Tales" — the famous 
" Contes do Ma M6ro I'Oyo," together with the " Peau d'Asne" and other Uiles in 
verso — is an excellent piece of book-making (Mucniillun). The ]>reliminary esway 
on Perrault is touched with a light and graceful pencil, and the eMsaya on the va- 
rious Contes are entertainingly written and luesont the latent results of schohir- 
ship. To every student of comparative folk-lore the book is indispiMisaMc. 



EVERY DAY'S RECORD: 



SEPTENIBER. 



When the year began in March, as it 
did in old Koman days, the months from 
July to December were known by num- 
bers only, September being the seventh 
month, from Latin septimus, " seventh." 
Subsequently July and August were re- 
named in honor of the emperors Julius 
and Augustus Cassar, and several Roman 
emperors sought to give their names to 
September, but in this case the old name 
was retained. When Julius Caesar re- 
vised the calendar, he made the months 
from March onward, with the exception 
of February, successively thirty-one and 
thirty days in length, September having 
thirty-one days ; but it was subsequently 
reduced to thirty days by Augustus, who 
changed the lengths of all the months 
after August, in order to make the latter 
month, to which he had given his name, 
as long as that named after his prede- 
cessor. The Saxons called September 
Oerst Monat, or barley month, this crop, 
from which their favorite beverage was 
brewed, being then gathered. It is still 
called Herbsi Monat, or harvest month, 
in Switzerland. The harvest moon 
comes in this month, being the full 
moon nearest the autumnal equinox. 
For several evenings the moon rises near 
sunset, thus enabling the harvesters to 
extend their day's work. This phenom- 
enon is less marked in the United States 
than in England and Northern Europe, 
where it is aided by the higher latitudes. 

Late in September the sun enters the 
constellation Libra, and passes the equator 
in its southward journey. This consti- 
tutes the autumnal equinox, which oc- 
curs about September 24. The period 
of the vernal equinox is about March 21, 
so that the winter season is somewhat 
shorter than the summer. Stormy weather 
olXcn attends this period, but by no means 
always, for September is occasional I3' 
pleasant throughout, though the summer 
444 



temperature is apt to overflow into its 
first half and render it oppressively 
warm. In the closing period of the 
month morning and evening bring creep- 
ing chills, to remind us that the season 
of the flower and the leaf is passing away, 
while that of frost and snow is advancing. 
The month of September has much to 
render it enjoyable. The season of the 
blossoming has gone, but that of the 
fruitage and the harvest is at hand. The 
orchards groan with their weight of red- 
cheeked apples, and are heavy with the 
rounded perfection of luscious peaches 
and pears. The vines hold out their 
purple clusters to our hands, while the 
threatening spines of the chestnut, the 
browning globes of the walnut and hick- 
ory, and the opening clusters of the hazel- 
nut give invitation to the coming fes- 
tival of the nutting-season, — a festival 
to which the nimble-footed squirrel must 
look forward with the same eager zest as 
his human competitors. In the fields 
the harvesters are busy gathering the 
golden-eared maize ; in meadow and by 
trookside the flowers of autumn — the as- 
ters, the golden-rod, the blue gentian, 
and their modest companions — are in 
bloom ; the trees are slowly putting on 
their autumnal robes of crimson and 
gold; and the birds are preparing for 
their southward flight to the lands of 
perpetual summer. In the depths of 
verdant groves, or by the flower-strewn 
sides of prattling streams, the lovers of 
nature still lie and dream, bidding fare- 
well to the season of the flower that has 
brought them so many happy days. It 
is the month of the ripening, of the ful- 
filment of the promise of summer, of 
the breathing-pause of nature before it 
enters the winter's frosty realm, and that 
in which man throws off the lassitude of 
the dog-days, and prepares to vigorously 
begin again the battle of business life. 



EVERY DAY'S RECORD. 



445 



EVENTS, 



©eptemljer 1. 

1715. Louis Xiy., the "Grand Mo- 
narque" of France, died at the age of 
seventy-seven, after a reign of seventy- 
two years, he having come to the throne 
at five years of age. This monarch, 
through his ambition, his incessant wars, 
and the encouragement which he gave 
to commerce, art, literature, etc., played 
a great part in modern history. Yet 
the victories with which his reign be- 
gan were followed by a series of de- 
feats, while his wars and extravagances 
brought France into a condition of dis- 
tress which was one of the causes of the 
Kevolution. As a master of the art of 
kingcraft, however, he has had few supe- 
riors, while his patronage of literature 
made his age the most brilliant in an in- 
tellectual sense that France has known. 

1827. The Journal of Commerce was 
issued at New York in the interest of 
abolition. It afterwards became a con- 
servative organ, and vied with the Mourn- 
ing Enqidrer, started in the same year, 
in seeking advertisements. They estab- 
lished swift schooners and pony expresses 
to get the commercial news, and were 
called " blanket sheets" from their efforts 
to surpass each other in size. 

1830. Charles Kean, the celebrated 
actor, began his first engagement in this 
country, at the Park Theatre, New York. 

1858. The laying of the first Atlantic 
cable was cclel^rated in New York by a 
public ovation to Cyrus W. Fiokl and 
the officers of the expedition. The cele- 
bration surpassed anything of tiio kind 
that had ever been seen in that city, 
while in all parts of the country the 
event was celebruted by fireworks, illu- 
minations, the ringing of bulls and fii-ing 
of cannon, and oilier demonstrutions t)f 
joy. Yet the rejoicing was jireniaturo. 
After a few mensagos wcn-o sent, thu cahUi 
ceased to work, and it was not until IHOO 
that a successful cable was laid. 

1858. On the night of Septotnbnr 1, 
the (juarantino buildings on Staten Is- 
land, which hud been used lor yoliow- 
fovcr ami ntnallpox ))alirnt8 against the 
protests of th(i pt'oj)li', wc^ro attacki'd by 
a mob, tlui siclv carried out, thu oHiccrs 
and phyKicians driven away, and the 
buildings burned. Thu woman's lios- 
pital was spared, but was burned the 



next day, thirty-two buildings in all be- 
ing destroyed. The island was declared 
in rebellion, and troops were sent there ; 
but no further trouble occurred. 

1858. The government of India, which 
had hitherto been held by the East India 
Company, was transferred to the Crown, 
which has since then governed India as 
a province of the British Empire. 

1870. The final defeat of the French 
army in the Franco-Prussian war took 
place at Sedan. War had been declared 
on July 19, and a single month of fight- 
ing left France at the mercy of Germany, 
and brought the reign of Napoleon III. 
to an end. On September 2 he sur- 
rendered to the King of Prussia, and his 
army capitulated. 

1880. A novel experiment with power- 
ful electric lights took place at Nantasket 
Beach, near Boston. Three towers, one 
hundred feet high and five hundred feet 
apart, ai-ranged in a triangle, were pi*o- 
vided each with a circle of twelve elec- 
tric lights of 2500 candle-power, thus 
concentrating a light of 90,000 candle- 
power on a limited space. The pur- 
pose was to discover the efficacy of this 
method of lighting cities. The light 
given was about equal to that of the full 
moon, and the experiment proved of no 
decisive value. 

1881. A singular duel took place at 
Steinmiihle. A young lawyer's clerk 
named Francis Waldock fought a so- 
called "American" duel with Baron von 

li , in which the contestants drew 

lots as to which should shoot himself. 
Waldcck drew the fatal blank. Ho 
twice asked a respite from his antago- 
nist, who on the suoond occasion brutally 
replied, " Coward and rascal, I am wait- 
ing to attend your funeral." The young 
man thereupon killed himself with a 
pistol-shot. 

1883. The " Black Flags " Chinoso 
guerillas of Tonquin, wore defeated by 
the Kri-nch. • 

1884. During the preceding night a 
serious outbiTak took plaoo at tho i>nftko 
Hollow mines, Hocking Valley, Ohio. 
Tlu< guaixls wero attarUeil by u body of 
strikers and one shot ilead. Yho strikers 
wero llnally driven oil', more than one 
tliousnml slu»t.s being exchanged. 

1886. Tho Severn tunnel was com- 
pleted and oponod for tnUBo. It had 



446 



EVERY DAY'S RECORD, 



been thirteen years in building, in con- 
sequence of difficulties from springs. 

September 3. 

1666. The great fire of London, one 
of the most noted conflagrations in his- 
tory, broke out, and raged with fury for 
several days, being fanned by a violent 
wind. Nearly the whole city was de- 
stroyed, thirteen thousand two hundred 
houses being burned and four hundred 
streets laid waste. Two hundred thou- 
sand people were left homeless. Lon- 
don had been for months desolated by the 
plague, and the distress was extreme. 
Yet the city was much improved in re- 
building, particularly by the use of brick 
and stone in place of timber as building- 
materials. 

1792. The terrible " September mas- 
sacres" of the French Eevolution took 
place on the 2d and 3d, the prisons of 
Paris being emptied of their captives, 
who were slaughtered by the mob as they 
left the prison doors. There were in all 
1085 prisoners massacred, among them 
the celebrated Princess de Lamballe. 

1 80 1. The French army evacuated 
Egypt, Napoleon's campaign in the East 
having proved a serious failure. 

1807. The bombardment of Copen- 
hagen by the English army began. Its 
university buildings and numerous other 
edifices were destroyed. 

1864. The city of Atlanta was occu- 
pied by General Sherman. From this 
city began his famous " march to the 
sea." 

1884. The Electrical Exhibition opened 
in Philadelphia, with a highly interest- 
ing and varied display of electrical appa- 
ratus. 

1885. The Chinese coal-miners were 
driven out of Rock Springs, Wyoming 
Territory, by a mob of white miners, 
fifty houses being burned and fifty China- 
men killed. Five hundred Chinamen 
were dispossessed. Another attack on 
Chinamen took place on the 12th at 
Seattle, Washington Territory. They 
obtained no redress for the injury done 
them. 

Soptemljer 3. 

1651. The battle of Worcester took 

Slace, in which Cromwell completely 
efcated the royal army under Charles 
II. and ended the contest for the throne. 
Just one year before, September 3, 1650, 
ho had totally defeated the Scotch at 
Dunbar. 

1658. Oliver Cromwell, the "Lord 
Protector" of England, died on the an- 
niversary of his two greatest battles. His 
life had been one of extraordinary di- 
versity, and he had risen on the wave of 



revolution from the lowest to the highest 
station. No greater military genius ever 
appeared in England, and in statecraft 
he has had no equal on the English 
throne. 

1783. The treaty of peace between 
Great Britain and the United States was 
signed at Paris. At the same time a 
treaty of peace was concluded between 
Great Britain, France, and Spain, the 
war between which nations was an out- 
come of the American Revolution. 

1855. Rachel, the eminent French 
actress, made her first appearance in this 
country at the Metropolitan Theatre, 
New York. 

1877. Louis Adolphe Thiers, the emi- 
nent French statesman and historian, died, 
at the age of eighty. He bore a prominent 
part in recent French history, and was 
president of the republic from February, 
1871, to May, 1873. Of his works, the 
most important are " History of the 
French Revolution" and "History of the 
Consulate and the Empire." 

1878. The Princess Alice, a passenger- 
steamboat, was run into on the Thames 
by the steamer Bywell Castle, and imme- 
diately sank. Of nine hundred persons 
on board, only two hundred were saved. 

1883. Ivan Turgenielf, the celebrated 
Russian novelist, died. He began his 
literary career with a poem, " Parascha," 
and wrote many novels of a high order 
of merit, besides short stories, poems, 
and dramatic sketches. 

©epteral>er 4. 

1870. The deposition of Napoleon 
III. and the establishment of a repub- 
lican government in France were pro- 
claimed, as a consequence of the defeat 
at Sedan. The United States recognized 
the new republic on September 8, Spain 
on the same day, and Switzerland on the 
9th. This constitutes the third estab- 
lishment of republican government in 
France. 

1878. The " Joseph II. mining adit," 
at Schemnitz, Hungary, was finished. 
This tunnel, begun in 1872, is 16,538 
metres, or over ten miles, long, twelve feet 
high, and ten wide. The mines, which 
yield gold, silver, lead, copper, iron, sul- 
phur, and arsenic, extend under the 
ground, and are connected by nearly 
three and a half miles of passages. The 
tunnel runs below the mines, and may 
be used either as a canal or as a railroad. 

1881. Great forest fires raged in East- 
ern Michigan, spreading over one thou- 
sand square miles of territory. A large 
amount of property was destroyed, and 
more than two hundred lives were lost. 

1884. The cashier of the National 
Bank of New Jersey, at New Brunswick, 



EVERT DAY'S RECORD. 



447 



committed suicide. An examination of 
the books showed a deficit of about $300,- 
000. A few days afterwards the president 
of the bank killed himself. 

1885. The seizure of the Caroline 
Islands by Germany created intense ex- 
citement at Madrid, Spain. A serious 
riot was threatened, and the mob had to 
be dispersed by troops. Spain had an old 
claim on the islands, and sent an expe- 
dition to take possession, when a German 
gunboat slipped in ahead, and hoisted the 
German flag, thus gaining prior posses- 
sion. 

1886. Fresh shocks of earthquake 
took place at Charleston, and along the 
coast. No damage done. The great shock 
occurred on August 31, and laid Charles- 
ton in ruins, 96 persons being killed, and 
$8,000,000 in value lost. This earth- 
quake extended from the Atlantic coast 
to Omaha, and from Detroit to Mobile, 
Charleston being its centre, 

1886. Prince Alexander of Bulgaria 
was forced to abdicate. He had been 
driven from the throne by a conspiracy 
on August 21, and on his return was en- 
thusiastically received by the people, but 
the hostile attitude of the Czar of Kussia 
obliged him again to give up the throne. 

/Septem'ber 5. 

1752. The first theatre in Virginia 
was opened at Williamsburg, with " The 
Merchant of Venice." 

1774. The First Continental Congress 
met at Philadelphia, delegates from 
eleven colonies appearing. It agreed on 
a declaration of rights, adopted a resolu- 
tion against commercial relations with the 
mother-country while the oppression con- 
tinued, and prepared an address to the 
King and the people of Groat Britain. 

1795. The first exclusively commer- 
cial newspaper in the United States was 
issued at Boston. It was named The 
Boston Prices Our rent and Marine In- 
tellic/enccr, Commercial and Mercantile. 

1800. The island of Malta was sur- 
rendered to the British by the French 
garrison, Napoleon having taken it in 
1798. At the poaro of yVmiens it was 
stipulated that it .should bo returned to 
the Knights Ilospilalldrs, its old owners, 
but the British nitained possession, an(l 
it was guaranteed to them by the treaty 
of Paris, 18 14. 

1808. .lolm IFomo, the author of the 
tragedy of" Douglas," died. The play 
was ilrst brought out in 1750. 

1863. James (Jlaisluir, an English 
scientist, nnido a balloon-ascent at Wol- 
v(!rhamnton, in winch lie reached the 
oxtraoruinary height of seven miles. At 
five and threo-(|\uu't(T miles ho hecnmo 
InBonHible, ami Mr. Coxwoll, whoaccom- 
VoL. XLII.-29 



panied him, lost the use of his hands, but 
was able to open the valve with his 
teeth. They descended safely. He made 
many other ascents, reaching the height 
of five miles in his first ascent, July 17, 
1862. 

1887. The Theatre Royal, of Exeter, 
England, was burned, with a loss of 
about one hundred and forty lives, mostly 
of those in the gallery. The fleeing au- 
dience became choked in an angle of the 
stairway, and were unable to escape from 
the rapidly-spreading flames. 

1887. The Ninth International Medi- 
cal Congress met in Washington, more 
than four thousand physicians being 
present, many of them of the highest 
standing in the profession. It adjourned 
on the 10th, the next congress being 
fixed for Berlin, in 1890. 

1887. Labor Day was observed as a 
genferal holiday by the working-people 
of New York, in which State it had been 
made a legal holiday. Little attention 
was paid to it elsewhere. A great parade 
is arranged for this day in 1888. 

Septemtoer G. 

1620. The Mayflower sailed from 
Plymouth, England, for America, having 
on board one hundred and one emi- 
grants, afterwards known as the Pil- 
grims. It cast anchor in the harbor of 
Cape Cod on November 9, a landing soon 
after being^ made at Plymouth, Massa- 
chusetts. This place had been named by 
Captain John Smith, on a previous voy- 
age of exploration. 

1769. A grand Shakespearian festival, 
devised by David Garrick, the celebrated 
actor, was held at Stratford-on-Avon on 
the Gth, 7th, and 8th of the month, with 
feasts, processions, illuminations, fire- 
works, masquerades, etc. Tliis was the 
first of the authors' commemoration fes- 
tivals. 

1838. Grace Darling, daughter of an 
English light-house-koeper, with her 
father, rescued lifteen passengers from the 
wrecked steamer Forlarshire, venturing 
out in a tremendous sea. Uer name has 
become famous through this noble action. 

1839. A destructive lire took place 
in iS'ew York, forty-six buildinijs being 
burned, with a loss 'of $10,000,000. 

1865. A gn>at flro oeeurred in Con- 
stantinople, ahout twenty-live InuuirvHl 
buildings being burned. At the snnu> 
time, a severe epidemic t»f eiu>lerK nigod 
in that city, which carried oil" fi!\v thou- 
sand people in August. It end(>d during 
tlu' month of Septenihor, pii>l.aMy in con- 
scMpieneo of the eonllagration. 

1869. A serious disaster \ook nlaco in 
the A vondalo coal-mine, Lu/.ernc County, 
l*a., ono hundred and eight miners K^ing 



448 



EVERY DAY'S RECORD. 



their lives. The shaft, which was built 
mainly of timber, took fire. All within 
the mine perished, no assistance or escape 
being possible, as the only avenue of 
entrance to the mine was filled with 
smoke and flame. 

1881. A day of extraordinary dark- 
ness in New England, like the "dark 
day" of 1780. The weather was extremely 
hot, the air full of vapor, and the dark- 
ness such that vision was limited to short 
distances. Colors changed. The sun 
looked like the full moon, when visible 
at all. Schools were dismissed, factories 
closed, and gas and lamps everywhere 
lighted. 

1883. A statue to the Marquis de 
Lafayette was unveiled at Le Puy, 
Franco, in the presence of an immense 
throng. The statue was decorated with 
American and French flags. 

1887. The Apache chief Geronimo 
and his band surrendered to General 
Miles. This was an important event, 
as this band had been long pursued, and 
their capture seemed hopeless. It put an 
end to all danger of serious outbreaks of 
the savage tribe that had committed so 
many outrages on defenceless citizens and 
travellers. 

Bept©ml>er 7". 

1792. The mint at Philadelphia was 
ready for operation. It had been built 
in accordance with an act of Congress, 
which provided that bullion should be 
assayed and coined free, or exchanged 
for coin at a discount of one-half per 
cent. Coining was done by horse-power 
until 1815, when steam-power was intro- 
duced. 

1822. Brazil declared its indepen- 
dence of Portugal. Pedro I. was crowned 
emperor on December 1, a new consti- 
tution was adopted in 1824, and in 1825 
Portugal recognized the independence of 
its former colony. 

i860. The steamer Lady Elgin, en- 
gaged in passenger-traffic on Lakes Supe- 
rior and Michigan, was run into at night 
by a schooner, and quickly sank. There 
were nearly four hundred persons on 
board, of whom about three hundred 
were lost. 

1867. Amnesty to the Southern of- 
ficials, with some few exceptions, was 
proclaimed by the President. Jefferson 
Davis, who had been imprisoned in 
Fortress Monroe, was soon after arraigned 
for high treason, and released on bail. 
His trial, fixed for November, but post- 
poned, never came off". 

188 1. Sidney Lanier, a distinguished 
poet of the Southern United States, died. 

1884. A great fire broke out in the 
lumber district of Cleveland, Ohio. Fifty 



acres of lumber-yards were burned over, 
and more than forty million feet of 
lumber destroyed. Twenty-seven cars 
loaded with merchandise were burned. 
The loss was estimated at $1,500,000. 

1885. The first international yacht- 
race for the America's cup took place 
between the American sloop Puritan 
and the English cutter Genesta, The 
vessels fouled, and the race was put off 
to the 14th, when the Puritan won. The 
Puritan won in a second race on the 
16th, thus settling the best-two-out-of- 
three contest in favor of the American 
j'^acht. 

1886. The second international yacht- 
race came oflf between the American 
yacht Mayflower and the British yacht 
Galatea. The Mayflower won in this, and 
also in a second race on the 11th, thus 
deciding the contest in her favor. 

(September 8. 

1397. Thomas of Woodstock, Duke 
of Gloucester, and uncle of Richard II., 
was treacherously seized and murdered 
by order of that king, on suspicion of 
taking part in conspiracies. 

1565. The city of St. Augustine, in 
Florida, was founded by Don Pedro 
Menendez, who had been sent by the 
King of Spain to drive the French from 
Florida. It is the oldest town in the 
United States, and was the scene of the 
massacre of the French Huguenot set- 
tlers, which soon after took place. 

1760. Montreal was surrendered to 
the English. This completed the con- 
quest of Canada from the French, who, 
by treaty, gave up all their possessions 
on the North American continent. 

1819. The Vauxhall Garden, at the 
northeast corner of Broad and Walnut 
Streets, Philadelphia, was destroyed by a 
mob. A balloon-ascension had been ad- 
vertised, but there was such great delay 
that the mob in the street outside became 
impatient and riotous, and sot fire to the 
buildings, which were completely de- 
stroyed. 

X825. Lafayette set sail for France, 
after his visit to, and tour through, the 
United States, in which he was every- 
where received with the greatest honor 
and rejoicing. Congress granted him 
$200,000 and 24,000 acres of land in 
Florida, as recompense for his services in 
the Revolution. 

1842. The queen of Otaheite, or Ta- 
hiti, was forced to put herself under the 
protection of France. She retracted, and 
France assumed the protectorate of the 
island in November, 1843. The island 
was formally annexed to France June 
29, 1880. 

1850. Lieut. Gale, an Englishman, 



EVERY DAY'S RECORD. 



449 



made a balloon-ascent with a horse from 
the Hippodrome of Vincennes. On de- 
scending, and releasing the horse, the 
people who held the ropes let go too soon, 
and the unfortunate aeronaut was borne 
into the air before he was ready, and 
dashed to the ground a mile distant. 

1855. The Malakhoff at Sebastopol 
was stormed and captured by the French. 
The British, at the same time, stormed 
the Hedan fort, but were unable to hold 
it. During the night the Eussians with- 
drew from that part of the town. No 
further defence was made, and the siege, 
which had lasted for a year, came to an 
end. 

1883. The Northern Pacific Railroad 
was opened to traffic. The last spike, a 
golden one, had been driven on August 
22, in the presence of a large assemblage. 
The road is 1674 miles long, from its 
eastern terminus, Superior City, near 
Duluth, Wis., to Walhalla Junction, on 
the Columbia River. From this point, 
extensions have been built in several di- 
rections. 

®epteml>er O. 

1513. The celebrated battle of Flod- 
den Field was fought by the English 
and Scotch armies. It was caused by 
James IV. of Scotland taking part with 
Louis XII. of France against Ilenry 
VIII. of England. James was killed, 
with thirty of his nobles and more than 
ten thousand of his army. The English 
loss was small. 

1846. Telegraphic communication was 
opened between New York and Albany. 
During the same month a telegrayih line 
was completed between Philadelphia and 
Harrisburg, which was extended to Pitts- 
burg by the end of the 3'car. Telegraphic 
communication between New York and 
Boston had been completed on June 27, 
and between Boston and Buffalo on July 
3. In January of this year Philadelphia 
and New York were connoct<!d by tele- 
graph, with the exception of the Hudson 
Riv«;r, over which the mossag(^8 were 
taken by boatmen. A cojtner wire cov- 
ered with cotton snturutca with pitch, 
«nd enclosed in a lend ])ipe, had been 
tried as u conductor of the current under 
the river, but proved a fuiluro. 

1848. A Revere Hro broke out in 
Brooklyn, N.Y., which conHUined about 
threo hundred buildingn and destroyed 
projK^rty to the value of fll.AOO.OiK). 

1850. ('iilifornia was (ulinittod into the 
Union hb h State. It hud been crdcd by 
Mexico to the United StatOH in 1H4H, but 
its {)rogres8 in ])oinilation was phcnoine- 
nally gn'at, owing to the discovery of 
gold, and it was ready for adnuHsion iu 
two years. 



i860. The allied English and French 
armies began their advance on Pekin, 
which city was surrendered to them on 
October 12 and evacuated on Novem- 
ber 5. The celebrated summer palace of 
the Emperor of China was pillaged and 
burned, an act of wanton destruction 
which has called forth severe reproba- 
tion. Its professed purpose was to re- 
venge on the government its cruel treat- 
ment of the commissioners sent to treat 
for peace, thirteen of the twenty-six hav- 
ing been murdered and the others treated 
with great indignity. 

1873. The Alabama award was paid 
by England to the United States. This 
grew out of the depredations of the Con- 
federate steamer Alabama, which had 
sailed from an English port to prey on 
American commerce. The claim of the 
United States for redress was settled by 
a court of arbitration, England being 
adjudged guilty of remissness, and dam- 
ages awarded to the amount of about 
^16,000,000. 

1882. Arabi Pasha attacked the Brit- 
ish army in camp at Kasassin, Egypt, 
but was repulsed with loss. On the 18th 
General Wolseley's army advanced and 
made an early morning attack on Tel-el- 
Kebir, the camp of the Egyptian army. 
The surprise was complete, and the 
works were carried in twenty minutes, 
the Egyptians flying in all directions. 
Fifteen hundred were killed and wounded 
and several thousand taken prisoners. On 
the 14th the British entered Cairo, and 
Arabi surrendered unconditionally. This 
brought the war to an end. 

ft^eptembex' lO. 

1087. William the Conqueror died. 
Great as were the power and fame of the 
Norman conqueror of England, all re- 
spect for him vanished with his death. 
His corpse was deserted by his servants 
and court ollicials, and left aliut^st nakoil 
on the lloo^^ while they looked after their 
interests with his successor. No coUln 
was provided, and as the masonry grave 
prepared jirovod tiui small, the body wjxa 
forced into it with such rough vigor that 
it burst asunder. 

1609. Hudson River was discovored 
by Henry Hudson, an English captain 
in conunand of a Dutch vessel. He 
sailed up the river as far as the site of 
Albany. This discovery gave Holland a 
claim to the adjacent torriti>ry, of which 
she wad forciblv deprived by England in 

i(w;4. 

1797. Mary Wollstonccrafl (Mrs. 
Godwin), author of the " Kighta of 
Woman," died. Sho also wn>to •« Vin- 
dication of tho Kighta of Man," in an- 
swer to Burko'i " Kolloctions on lh« 



450 



EVERY DAY'S RECORD. 



Keyolution in France," and a "Histor- 
ical and Moral View of the French. 
Kevolution." But she is best known for 
her advocacy of the theory that mar- 
riage should cease with the cessation of 
sympathy between the parties, and that 
no ceremony is necessary. She left one 
daughter, who became the wife of the 
poet Shelley. 

1813. The battle of Lake Erie took 
place, in which Commodore Perry at- 
tacked the British squadron on the lake 
and captured the entire fleet. In this 
engagement he performed the daring feat 
of leaving his sinking flag-ship and cross- 
ing under the British fire in a small boat 
to another vessel of his fleet. 

1846. The Howe sewing-machine pat- 
ent was granted. Elias Howe, the in- 
ventor, found great difficulty in the in- 
troduction of this useful invention, and 
went to England, where he was met 
with the same spirit of scepticism. On 
his return to the United States he found 
that imitations of his patent were in use, 
and entered into law-suits which were 
not settled until 1854. The decision was 
in his favor, royalties were paid to him 
by the several patentees, and he became 
in the end very rich, after having passed 
through periods of great depression of 
fortune. 

1849. Edwin Booth, since so cele- 
brated as a tragedian, made his first ap- 
pearance on the stage at the Boston 
Museum. He was not quite sixteen 
years of age. 

1881. A suspension-bridge near Pitts- 
burg was nearly destroyed by fire through 
a singular cause. On examination it was 
found that thousands of sparrows had 
been in the habit of building their nests 
in the wood-work of the bridge. The 
dry and inflammable material of the 
nests was kindled by a spark from a 
pavssing steamer. 

1884. The cholera alarmingly in- 
creased at Naples. Three hundred and 
sixty-five deaths took place, and four 
hundred and thirty on the 12th. Heavy 
rains on the 13th and 14th were followed 
by ft notable decrease of the epidemic. 
In all Italy, during this outbreak, the 
deaths were 7974. In September, 1886, 
there was a severe chf)lera epidemic in 
Japan, there being 37,000 deaths out of 
59,000 cases. It was still more destruc- 
tive in Corea. 

1885. Severe floods took place in the 
province of Bengal, India. Many lives 
wore lost. 

©optomlsor 11. 

1777. The battle of Brandywine was 
fought, between the American army 
under Waahington and the British under 



Howe. The defeat of the Americans in 
this engagement opened Philadelphia to 
the British, who soon after occupied it. 

1 8 14. A naval battle took place on 
Lake Champlain, in which Captain 
McDonough with an American fleet en- 
countered a superior British squadron 
and sunk or captured the entire fleet. 

1823. David Kicardo, a celebrated 
writer on political economy, died. 

1882. The "Star Route" trial ended 
in a disagreement of the jury. This was 
one of the most noted trials in the history 
of the country. Extensive frauds had 
been discovered in what were known as 
star routes in the postal service, and sev- 
eral of the contractors were arrested for 
perjury, it being shoAvn that the bonds 
they had given for the faithful perform- 
ance of their contracts were fraudulent 
and worthless. The jury brought in some 
of the accomplices guilty, but disagreed 
concerning the principal offenders. A 
new trial began in December, and lasted 
six months. It ended in the acquittal of 
the principals. 

1883. Hendrik Conscience, the most 
notable of Belgian novelists, died. Of 
his many stories, the best-known is 
"The Lion of Flanders," an historical 
romance. 

©eptem'ber 13. 

1642. Cinq-Mars, the favorite of 
Louis XIII., was executed at Lyons by 
order of Cardinal Richelieu. He had 
been introduced at court by the cardinal 
as a spy on the king, whose favorite he 
soon became. Enmity grew up between 
him and Richelieu, against whom he en- 
tered into a conspirac}''. He was arrested 
and executed at the age of twenty-two. 
His history has formed the basis of plots 
for romance-writers and dramatists. 

1649. Drogheda, Ireland, was taken 
by storm by Cromwell, and nearly all 
the garrison massacred. This Cromwell 
described as a •' righteous judgment" and 
a "great mercy." 

1683. The siege of Vienna was raised. 
It had been besieged by a Turkish army 
two hundred thousand strong, and was 
weakly garrisoned. But the King of 
Poland and the Duke of Lorraine has- 
tened with armies to its relief, and the 
Turks withdrew without fighting. This 
event is of importance, as it relieved 
Europe from the danger of being over- 
run by the Turks. 

1814. Baltimore was attacked by the 
British fleet, an expedition from which 
had just before captured Washington 
and burned its principal buildings. The 
American land-forces were defeated near 
Baltimore, but Fort McHenry repulsed 



EVERY DAY'S RECORD. 



451 



the British attack, and the fleet with- 
drew in discomfiture. 

1847. The heights of Chapultepec, 
near the city of Mexico, were stormed 
and captured hy the American army 
under General Scott. The next day the 
city was taken and the war brought to 
an end. The storming of Chapultepec 
is looked upon as an exploit of remark- 
able boldness and daring, the hill being 
very steep and high, while it was crowned 
with a fortress of great strength. 

1857. The California passenger-steam- 
er Central America was lost at sea, with 
great loss of life. It had left Havana on 
the 8th for New York, but encountered 
a severe storm and sprung a serious leak. 
The pumps were set to work, but the 
water gained rapidly. A vessel which 
drew near on the 12th took off more than 
a hundred of the passengers, including all 
the women and children ; but about eight 
o'clock in the evening the water swept 
over the deck, and the vessel went down 
with a plunge, carrying with it all on 
board. A few more were saved, but over 
four hundred were lost, together with a 
treasure in gold of more than two million 
dollars. 

1874. Francis Guizot, the celebrated 
French historian, died. Of his numer- 
ous historical works the best-known and 
most valuable is " History of Civilization 
in Europe." 

1881. Professor S. A. King started on 
a balloon-voyage from Minneapolis to 
the East. There accompanied him Mr. 
Upton, of the Signal Service, and five re- 
portei-s. The enterprise failed from lack 
of wind, and the aeronauts were obliged 
to come down near the Mississippi. 

1884. The cholera epidemic raged se- 
verely in Spain, From September 1 to 
12 the cases numbered 23,644; deaths, 
G379. 

Hopteniljer 13. 

1592. Michael de Montaigne, the cel- 
ebrated French essayist, died. As he 
himself tells us, ho began to write for 
lack of something to do, and jotted down 
whatever came into his head. As a 
writer ho is frank, easy, and rambling in 
method, full of practical wisdom and 
sagacity, and ranks as the first and one 
of the best of esstiyists. 

1598. riiilip ll. of Spain died. Ho 
is noted for tlio vnst amount of human 
BuHciring to which liift njorciloss bigotry 
gjivo rise. During his n^gn the Incjuisi- 
tion liouriahod in Spain, while terriblu 
misery and grcnt doBtruotion of property 
nroao from bib vain Dlforta to i-ouuco the 
NethorlandH. The mont celehnitod event 
of his roign was the attempt to invade 
England with the '* Invincible Anuada," 



which proved a total failure. After his 
death Spain sank to the position of a 
second-class European power. 

1759. The capture of Quebec by the 
army under General Wolfe took place. 
This city, from its position on a lofty hill, 
was deemed impregnable ; but Wolfe led 
his army by night along a narrow path 
up the steep bluff, and defeated the 
French army the next morning. Wolfe 
was killed on the field, while Montcalm, 
the French commander, was severely 
wounded, and died the next day. This 
victory put an end to the power of 
France in America. 

1806. Charles James Fox, one of the 
most celebrated of English orators and 
statesmen, died. 

1858. The steamer Austria, of the 
New York and Hamburg line, was 
burned at sea. The boatswain had been 
ordered to fumigate the steerage by 
thrusting a hot iron into a bucket of 
tar. The tar caught fire and set fire to 
the vessel, the flames spreading with 
great rapidity, rushing through the 
gangways and hatchways, and cutting 
ofi' the retreat of all those on the forward 
part of the vessel. All the boats but 
one were swamped in launching, and 
when the engines stopped working the 
vessel's head swung round, so that the 
flames were driven forward by the wind, 
forcing most of the passengers to leap 
overboard. Of more than five hundred 
persons on board, only ninety-nine were 
saved, being picked up by two vessels 
which hove in sight during the fire. 

1880. A severe earthquake took place 
at Valparaiso. At Tllajiel, Chili, about 
two hundred perished. Other disastrous 
September earthquakes were the follow- 
ing. In 1186 a city of Calabria with all 
its inhabitants was overwhelmed in tlie 
Adriatic Sea. Thousands perished in an 
etirthquake at Constantinople, September 
14, 1509. In September, 1693, a terrible 
earthquake took place in Sicily,- which 
destroyed lifty-l'our cities and towns and 
three hundred villages. More tlmn one 
hundred thousand lives were lost. Not a 
trace remained of Catania and i(« eigh- 
teen thousand inhabitants. Seplenibor 1, 
172^5, Piilernio was nearly destroyed and 
nearly six thousand lives were K>8t. In 
1754 half the houses and ft>rly tlu»uiHnd 
of the inhabitants of Cairo weiv swhI- 
lowcd up. In 1789, at Horgo di San 
Sepolero, more than one thousand lives 
weix» lost. September 26, 18(.H>, the 
royal palace and manv building.^ were 
destroyed at Constantnu>plo. Septem- 
ber 3, 1874, Antigiui and other places in 
(iiuitennila wore dosUvyod, with great 
1..SS ,.f life. 

1881. Sergeant John Mason llrod at 



452 



EVERY DAF'S RECORD, 



Charles J. Guiteau, the assassin of Presi- 
dent Garfield, in prison. His shot missed 
its aim. Mason was condemned to one 
year's imprisonment for breach of disci- 
pline, but was pardoned before his sen- 
tence expired. 

ISepteni'ber IJ.. 

1321. Dante Alighieri, the most cele- 
brated of Italian poets, author of the 
" Divina Commedia," died. Dante ranks 
with the few ^reat epic poets of the 
world, while his history has a inelan- 
choly interest which has added to the 
celebrity of his great poem. 

1741. Charles Eollin, the French his- 
torian, died. He is notable in literature 
for his "Ancient History," which re- 
mained a standard work until antiquated 
by the recent great discoveries in the 
history of the past. 

1 85 1. James Fenimore Cooper, the 
noted American novelist, died. He is 
celebrated for his romances of Indian 
life and his sea-stories, the latter of 
which are very true to nature, though 
his Indian characters have been severely 
criticised. He was familiar with ocean 
life, while his Indians were creatures of 
the imagination. 

1852. The Duke of Wellington died. 
This celebrated general first distinguished 
himself in India, where he gained impor- 
tant victories, and afterwards in S-pain 
and Portugal, which countries he skil- 
fully defended against Napoleon's armies. 
But his greatest celebrity was gained at 
Waterloo, at which place he defeated 
ISTapoleon's last army and put an end to 
the career of the greatest military genius 
of modern times. 

1882. The steamer Asia foundered on 
Lake Huron, nearly one hundred lives 
being lost. 

1882. A four-oared race on the 
Thames, between the Hillsdale club of 
Michigan and an English roAving club, 
onded in the defeat of the Americans. 
They kept in advance till near the goal, 
when an accident caused them to stop 
rowing, and the English boat shot ahead. 

September 15. 

1615. Lady Arabella Stuart died. 
Her story was a very interesting one. 
She was next in succession to James VI. 
of Scotland, who became James I, of 
England, and a conspiracy, which proved 
abortive, was devistnl to raise her to the 
ihrone. She was then forbidden to marry, 
but did so in defiance of the prohibition. 
She and her husband were arrested, but 
both escaped. Seymour, her hus))and, 
succeeded in making his way to Flan- 
ders, but his wife bad made her flight in 
a different vessel, which was taken, and 



she confined in the Tower. Here she 
was held prisoner from 1609 till her 
death. 

1784. The first balloon-ascent in Eng- 
land was made by a man named Lunardi. 
An ascent had been made in Edinburgh 
before, and several in France. Most of 
these were in what are known as fire- 
balloons ; Lunardi's balloon was infiated 
with hydrogen gas. 

1804. A balloon-ascent, for scientific 
observation, was made by Gay-Lussac 
at Paris. He reached the height of 
22,977 feet, or over four miles, the high- 
est point reached to that date. 

1812. The city of Moscow was burned. 
It had been entered by Napoleon's army 
on the previous day, and this conflagra- 
tion is supposed to have been started to 
prevent the French from finding winter- 
quarters. Eleven thousand eight hun- 
dred and forty dwellings, besides palaces 
and churches, were burned. This was 
the turning-point in Napoleon's career. 
His power from that time steadily de- 
clined. 

1830. The Liverpool and Manchester 
Kailway, the first on which steam loco- 
motion for traction-purposes was fully 
established, was formally opened. Loco- 
motives had been tried before. The first 
locomotive constructed by George Ste- 
phenson, in 1814, travelled six miles per 
hour. The Rocket, built by him in 1829, 
made from twenty-five to thirty-five 
miles per hour. It took part in the 
opening of the L. & M. road, and won 
the prize of five hundred pounds offered 
for the best locomotive. William Hus- 
kisson, a distinguished political econo- 
mist, was killed by the Kocket on this 
occasion. 

1882. Harper's Ferry surrendered, 
with its garrison of eleven thousand men 
and a great quantity of military stores, 
to Stonewall Jackson. 

1885. The elephant Jumbo was killed 
near St. Thomas, Ontario. It was being 
loaded on a train, when a freight-train 
backed on it and injured it so severely 
that it died in half an hour. This ele- 
phant was of the African species and one 
of the largest known in captivity. It 
was about twenty-five years old, having 
been taken to the London Zoological 
Garden when quite young, whence it 
was purchased by Barnum, in opposition 
to the vigorous protests of the English 
press. 

1887. The three days' centennial cel- 
ebration of the adoption of the Constitu- 
tion of the United States began in Phila- 
delphia. On the first day there was an 
industrial parade of remarkable extent 
and brilliancy. On the second day a 
grand military procession took place. 



EVERY DAY'S RECORD. 



453 



The third day was given to orations and 
other ceremonies, Hon. Samuel F. Miller, 
of the United States Supreme Court, 
delivei'ing the principal address, while 
a new national hymn by Francis M. 
Crawford was recited. 

Oeptember It*. 

1701. James II., the deposed king of 
England, died. In a reign of three years 
this monarch succeeded in so thoroughly 
disaffecting his subjects that William of 
Orange was called in and the tyrannous 
ruler driven from his throne. The re- 
mainder of his life was spent in France. 

1736. Gabriel Daniel Fahrenheit, the 
deviser of the thermometer, died. The 
year of his death is not certain, and may 
have been 1740, but is usually given at 
the above date. His thermometer was 
completed about 1720. For reasons which 
he gives at length, he fixed the number 
of degrees between the freezing- and boil- 
ing-points of water at one hundred and 
eighty. The greatest cold he was able to 
produce by a mixture of ice, water, and 
sal-ammoniac was thirty-two degrees be- 
low the freezing-point, and this he chose 
as the zero-point of his thermometer. The 
Centigrade thermometer, of later date, is 
much more simple in these particulars. 

1795. The Cape of Good Hope, where 
a Dutch colony had existed since 1650, 
was taken possession of by the English. 
It was restored at the peace of Amiens, 
in 1802, but taken again in 180G, and 
finally ceded to England in 1814. 

1873. The final evacuation of France 
by the German army took place. The 
country had been held, after the close of 
the war, until the arrangements for the 
payment of the indemnity could be com- 
pleted. 

1875. A severe cyclone visited the 
Gulf of Mexico, and continued for three 
days. Much damage was done in Galves- 
ton, and in Indianola over one liundrod 
lives were lost and nine-tenths of the 
houses were swept away. The town was 
flooded eight fcut deep by the waters of 
the gulf. 

1875. The system of fust trains for 
the delivery of the Jiiails cunie into oper- 
ation. 

X887. A collision took place on the 
Midland Jlailway, in England, twonty- 
tlireo persons being killed and sixty in- 
jured. 

Heptoniljer IT, 

1787. The (\)n8titution of the United 
tStutcs was Hdoj)t<><l by the convention at 
rhiladelphia. The articles, which had 
been agreed upon after four months' de- 
liberation, were aftorwanla ratillod by 
oonvoDtions in tho several States. Tro- 



vious to this the States had been bound 
by a weak compact which could be dis- 
solved at will, and Congress was almost 
destitute of authority. The Constitution 
first put into the hands of the govern- 
ment the power to enforce its laws. 

1862. The battle of Antietam, or 
Sharpsburg, was fought between the ar- 
mies of General Lee and General McClel- 
lan. This battle had been brought on 
by Lee's invasion of Maryland, and was 
desperately contested, the losses being 
about <ten thousand on each side. It 
ended in a repulse of tho Confederates, 
who retreated to Virginia on the 19th. 

1871. The Mount Cenis tunnel was 
formally opened by the passage of a train 
of twenty-two carriages in twenty min- 
utes. This great work had occupied 
fourteen years. The tunnel is seven and 
one- half miles long, and cost about 
113,000,000. Compressed air was the 
principal power used in the boring. 

©opteiul>er 18. 

96. Domitian, one of the cruellest 
emperors of Rome, was assassinated by 
conspirators, after having been for fifteen 
years the terror and detestation of his 
subjects. He was stabbed by a man who 
was reading to him the particulars of a 
pretended plot, and quickly despatched 
by the other conspirators. 

1772. The first dismemberment of 
Poland, by Russia, Prussia, and Austria, 
was arranged, about one-third of the 
whole kingdom being seized. This was 
done by a compact between Frederick 
the Great and Catherine of Russia, in 
which Austria was invited to take part. 
Two other partitions were made, one in 
1703 and one in 1795, which last com- 
pleted the work and took the whole of 
the kingdom. Poland had been long dis- 
tracted by bad government, and became 
an easy prey to these imperial robbers. 

1793. The corner-stone of the capitol 
at Washington was laid by President 
Washington. This city became the seat 
of government in 1800. The capitol 
thus inaugurated was burned by tho 
IJritish during their raid in 1814. The 
presc'i\t one was built afterwards. 

1830. William llazlitt, a very distin- 
guished writer on miscollantunis subjects, 
died. His works wore voluminous and 
brilliant in style, and ho was one of the 
ablo.st of critics on art and tho drauin. 
His largest work was a *' Lifu «)f Nhi>o- 
loon," in four voluuios. It m higfily 
cominrndatory of Napoloon. 

1868. Tho insurrocti*>n in SjMiin 
against C^uoon Isabella bogan. It ondi-d 
in lutr (light and the a«loption of a ro- 
publican form of govornmont. In tho 
succeeding Moy tho Cortas voted for a 



454 



EVERY DAY'S RECORD. 



monarchy. Eepublican risings followed, 
but were suppressed, and the Spanish 
republic came to an end, after a very- 
short term of existence. 

1879. Daniel Drew, a noted New 
York stock-speculator, died. 

1884. Jerry Mcx^ulej'', a well-known 
missionary and reformed convict of New 
York, died. His efforts at reform were 
attended with great success, and many 
drunkards and criminals were redeemed. 

®eptein.l>er lt>. 

1356. The battle of Poictiers, between 
Edward the Black Prince, son of Ed- 
ward III. of England, and King John 
of Prance, was won by the English over 
a great superiority of numbers. The 
Prench had sixty thousand horse, in ad- 
dition to foot-soldiers. The English force 
was not over ten thousand in all, its re- 
treat was cut off, and escape seemed 
impossible. Yet by a bold attack the 
Prench were dispersed, thousands of 
their knights and nobles slain, and their 
king taken prisoner and brought to Lon- 
don. 

1648. The pressure of the atmosphere 
(discovered by Galileo in 1564) was found 
by Pascal to vary with the height above 
sea-level. This opened the way for the 
measurement of the heights of moun- 
tains by means of the barometer. 

1665. During the week ending Sep- 
tember 19 the great plague of London 
reached its height, more than ten thou- 
sand persons dying. Considerably more 
than one hundred thousand died during 
the whole period of the plague. The 
city was in a dreadful state, the dead 
being so numerous in comparison with 
the whole population that it was hardly 
possible to bury them. 

1777. The battle of Stillwater, in 
which General Burgoyne was defeated, 
occurred. A second battle took place 
October 7, and Burgoyne with his whole 
army surrendered at Saratoga on the 
17th, every chance of escape from the 
trap into which he had fallen being cut 
off. 

1783. Joseph Montgolfier, the pioneer 
aeronaut, ascended in a balloon inflated 
with smoke from burned straw and wool. 
The first ascent was made June 6, 1783, 
in a fire-balloon. The first ascent in a 
balloon inflated with hydrogen gjis was 
' made by MM. Robert and Charles, at 
Paris, August 27, 1783. 

1852. Severe inundations took place 
in the valleys of the Rhine and Rhone 
Rivers, overflowing the country to a 
great extent. 

1863. The battle of Chickamauga took 
place on the 19th and 20th. The Con- 
federates under Bmgg attacked Roso- 



crans and drove him back in disorder, 
but Thomas held his ground firmly 
against them and saved the Union army 
from a serious disaster. 

1864. The battle of "Winchester, be- 
tween Sheridan and Early, was fought. 
Early was attacked, and, after an obsti- 
nate contest, driven out of the town and 
up the valley in utter rout. Sheridan 
followed, and destroyed the crops in the 
valley, with the purpose of rendering it 
incapable of sustaining an army. 

1873. The great financial panic of 
this year reached its height during the 
ten days after the 19th. The New York 
Clearing-House suspended payment, and 
many great banking-houses failed. A 
ver}^ severe financial and industrial de- 
pression followed, whose effects lasted for 
several years. 

1874. A great fire took place in the 
cotton-mills at Pall River, Massachu- 
setts. About sixty lives were lost. 

1881. President Garfield died. He 
had been shot at Washington on July 2 
by Charles J. Guiteau, a disappointed 
office-seeker, and lay in a gradually sink- 
ing state, the sympathies of the whole 
country being deeply aroused by his suf- 
fering, patience, and courage. On Sep- 
tember 6 he was removed from Wash- 
ington to Elberon, New Jersey, in the 
hope that the pure sea-air would help 
him. Here he died on the 19th. No 
American was ever more widely and sin- 
cerely mourned. 

September SO. 

1415. Owen Glendower, the celebrated 
Welsh patriot, died. He had raised the 
standard of insurrection against England 
about 1400, claiming to be the lineal rep- 
resentative of the old Welsh kings. His 
power waned after the battle of Shrews- 
bury, in which his allies the Percies 
were overthrown, but he continued to 
annoy the English from mountain-fast- 
nesses until his death. 

1777. The surprise and defeat of Gen- 
eral Wayne, known at that time in the 
army as the "Massacre of Paoli," took 
place. Wayne had concealed his force 
in the woods to harass the rear of the 
British army, but was surprised, and 
three hundred of his men were killed 
while making no resistance. 

1858. Piccolomini, the favorite opera- 
singer, made her first appearance in 
America at the New York Academy of 
Music. 

1863. Jacob Grimm died. His re- 
searches, in association with his brother, 
into the folk-lore of Germany, were of 
the utmost importance, and brought the 
study of popular legend and tradition 



EVERY DAY'S RECORD. 



455 



into a prominence which it still main- 
tains. 

1870. The Italian troops occupied 
Eome. This brought to an end the long 
contest over the temporal power of the 
Pope, and Italy became once more a sin- 
gle kingdom, after having been broken 
into a number of minor states during 
the long period since the fall of the old 
Eoman empire. 

1875. William Perkins, at Lillie 
Bridge, London, walked eight miles in 
less than one hour. 

1879. General Grant was received at 
San Prancisco, after his two years' tour 
round the world, with a grand procession 
and public ceremonies, 

1887. The iron-clad Trafalgar, the 
largest ship in the British navy, was 
launched at Portsmouth. The register 
of this vessel is 11,940 tons, and its en- 
gines are of 12,000 horse-power. Its 
armament consists of twelve heavy guns. 

1887. A test of automatic air-brakes 
took place. A train of twenty cars, run- 
ning forty miles an hour, was stopped in 
a distance of four hundred and eighty- 
four feet, without shock, by the appli- 
cation of these brakes. One of fifty 
cars, running twenty miles an hour, was 
stopped in one hundred and fifty-five 
feet. 

(September 31. 

1327. Edward II. of England was 
murdered in Berkeley Castle. The reign 
of this king is notable for the celebrated 
battle of Bannockburn, in which the 
English were defeated by the Scotch 
under Kobert Bruce. Edward, whose 
course had given general dissatisfaction, 
was dethroned January 20, and assassi- 
nated the foUovsang September. 

1558. Charles v., Emperor of Ger- 
many and King of Spain, died. This 
celebrated monarch, after a life of groat 
warlike activity, abdicated liis throne in 
1556, and retired to a monastery, where 
ho died two years afterwards. 

1776. A Bovoro conllagration took 
place in Now York, shortly after it had 
Dccn occupied by tho JJritish under 
Generul Howo. Four Imndred and 
ninety-throo buildings, including Trinity 
(Miurch, weru bujiKid. This cvont intur- 
forod gi-i!iitly with tho !5ritish oxpcctu- 
tiona of pleasant wintisr (juartors. 

1792. Royalty was abolislu'd in Franco 
by a docroo of tiio Natioinil Convention. 
It was njplaccd by a r<'{)ublican govt'rn- 
nient, which was proclaiiueil on tho 22(1, 
and which continued in oxistenco until 
ovortbrown by Napoleon in 18(M. 

1832. Sir Walter Sc^ott, tho great 
novoliBt, died. As a writer of historical 
iiovelti Ihitf distinguishud author has never 



had an equal, and his works promise to 
become classics in the literature of fiction. 
i860. The Prince of Wales entered 
the United States at Detroit, after his 
tour in the British provinces. He made 
a long journey through the United 
States, and was received with a grand 
military and civic display in New York 
on October 11. A grand ball was given 
in his honor on the 12th, and a torchlight 
procession of firemen on the 13th. 

1886. A strike of ninety thousand 
cotton-spinners took place in England. 
Parnell's Irish land bill was defeated in 
the House of Commons. 

1887. A severe hurricane at Browns- 
ville, Texas. More than ten inches of 
rain fell, and great damage was done. 

Septeml^er 33. 

479 B.C. The battle of Plataea was 
fought. This great contest went far to 
decide whether Persia or Greece should 
have the empire of the civilized world. 
It put an end to the Persian invasions 
of Europe, which were destined to be 
followed, in the next century, by a Greek 
invasion and conquest of Asia under 
Alexander the Great. 

19 B.C. Virgil, the greatest of the 
Roman poets, author of the celebrated 
epic poem " The -^neid," and of charm- 
ing poems of country life, died. 

1736. Major John Bernardi died. Tho 
career of this man was a remarkable evi- 
dence of legal injustice. Arrested in 
1690 as a conspirator in a plot to assassi- 
nate William III., he was kept in prison 
for forty years, in spite of the fact that 
there was not evidence enough to convict 
him, and of many eti'orts for his release. 
Long before he died his alleged crime 
had been forgotten. 

1836. Tho Bowery Theatre, at New 
York, was burned. This theatre had the 
misfortune of being burned four times, 
the first time on JMarch 20, 1828, the third 
on February 18, 1838, and the fourth on 
April 25, 1845. 

1853. Tlio lirst telegraph line in Cali- 
fornia was completed. It extended eight 
miles from San Francisco towards the 
ocean, and was intemlod to give early 
information of shipping-arrivals. 

1882. A territle i>xpb»sion took plnco 
on tho Russian war-ship l*i>pot!Ua Nov- 
gorod, at Sebastopol. A torpetlo ex- 
ploded in tho torpeilo-niagazino, shut- 
tering all tho upjHT works of tho vo.ssci 
and renthM-ing her unseaworthy. Two 
odiei'i-s ami twenty-two soumen wore 
kitted. 

1882. A niilroad-acv'itlent tt>ok plnoo 
just oiit,si(lo tho tunnel near {\\o (Jnuid 
(N'ntral l)ept)t, Now York. Tho axle 
of an engino broke and blocked the 



456 



EVERY DAY'S RECORD. 



track, while an express entered the tun- 
nel unsignalled and ran into the wreck. 
I'our persons were killed, and fifteen 
severely injured. 

1887. James A. Stewart, ofWichita, 
Kansas, was sentenced to seventeen years 
and four months' imprisonment and $20,- 
800 fine for violation of the prohibition 
law. This remarkable sentence was im- 
posed on a clerk in a drug-store, who 
pleaded guilty to an indictment of 2080 
counts. 

ISeptemT>ex' 33. 

1779. I*aul Jones, with the American 
frigate Bon Homme Kichard, captured 
the British frigate Serapis. The engage- 
ment was one of the most memorable 
naval battles in history. Captain Jones 
fought his antagonist until his own ves- 
sel was ready to sink under his feet, 
and compelled victory where almost any 
other man would have acknowledged de- 
feat. 

1780. Major Andre was captured by 
American scouts. He was on his return 
from West Point, where he had been 
arranging with Benedict Arnold, the 
traitor, for the surrender of that post to 
the British. Andre was hanged (Octo- 
ber 2) as a spy, though earnest efforts 
were made to save his life, 

1886. Henry George, the advocate of 
free land, was nominated by the Central 
Labor Union for Mayor of New York. 
This event is notable as the first decided 
political movement made by the labor 
element of our population. 

iSeptemlber 341. 

1664. The Dutch province of New 
Netherlands was surrendered to a Brit- 
ish fleet sent over by the Duke of York, 
in honor of whom the province was re- 
named New York. The seizure was a 
high-handed one, as the two nations 
were at peace ; but the British took good 
care not to give up their acquisition. 

1680. Samuel Butler, a noted Eng- 
lish satirical poet, died. His political 
satire of " Hudibras" gave him at tho 
time a great reputation, which its wit 
deserved. It is little read now, however, 
its local allusions having lost much of 
their point. 

1846. Tho city of Monterey, Mexico, 
surrendered to General Taylor after a 
three days' siege, in which the soldiers 
mined their way through the walls of 
the houses. 

X856. Th^stearaor Niagara was burned 
on Lake Erie, more than fifty lives being 
lost. 

1869. This day is memorable in the 
financial history of New York as " Black 
Friday." Gold, which was approaching 



par value, was made the basis of a daring 
speculation by a clique of bold opera- 
tors, who got under their control about 
1120,000,000 in gold and ran up the 
price from 131 to 150. On the 24th it 
made a further advance to 164. The 
value of all stocks was now seriously 
disturbed, fortunes were being rapidly 
lost and won, and the wildest excite- 
ment prevailed. At this perilous point 
the government announced that it would 
sell gold, and the price at once fell to 
135. This broke the poAver of the con- 
spirators and defeated the most daring 
plot ever known to Wall Street. 

1875. Great storms took place in 
India from 22d to 24th of September. 
Ahmedabad was inundated and about 
twenty thousand persons left homeless. 

1876. Hallett's Keef, one of the prin- 
cipal obstructions to navigation at Hell 
Gate, Long Island Sound, was blown up 
with dynamite. General Newton had 
spent seven years in excavating it, hav- 
ing mined ten tunnels into the rock, 
thirty-three feet under low-water mark. 
Numerous holes were bored along these 
passages and charged with twenty-eight 
thousand pounds of dynamite^ and twenty- 
four thousand pounds of other explosives. 
The explosion that followed rent the 
ledge to pieces, the fragments being 
afterwards removed by dredging. An- 
other obstruction, known as Flood Rock, 
was removed in the same way, the ex- 
plosion taking place October 10, 1885. 

1883. A singular accident occurred in 
one of the buildings of the Royal Arse- 
nal, Woolwich, England. This building, 
containing seven hundred and seventy 
fully-charged war-rockets, took fire, and 
more than five hundred and fifty of these 
rockets exploded, flying in all directions 
over the country to a distance of nearly 
five miles. There were many hairbreadth 
escapes and much damage to buildings, 
but only two lives were lost. 

1887. William O'Brien, the Irish agi- 
tator, was found guilty of seditious lan- 
guage and sentenced to three months' 
imprisonment. Several other prominent 
Irishmen, some of them members of 
Parliament, have since then been pun- 
ished in the same manner. 

Septem'ber 35. 

1513. Vasco de Balboa discovered tho 
Pacilic Ocean. He was a Spanish ad- 
venturer, who had smuggled himself in 
a cask on board a vessel bound for the 
Istlimus of Darien, but became leader of 
an expedition across the isthmus, which, 
after encountering many hardships, 
reached an elevation from which the 
waters of the great Pacific could be seen. 
He claimed possession of this broad 



EVERY DAY'S RECORD. 



457 



reach of unknown waters for the King 
of Spain. In the words of Keats, — 

With eagle eyes 
He stared at the Pacific, — and all his men 
Looked at each otb'er with a wild surmise, — 
Silent, upon a peak in Darien. 

1690. Public Occurrences, the first 
newspaper published in America, was 
issued at Boston. Its career was a very 
brief one, as it was suppressed by the 
legislature before the appearance of the 
second number. 

1775. Montreal was captured by Gen- 
eral Montgomery. In this enterprise 
Ethan Allen, the daring leader of the 
Grreen Mountain Boys, was taken pris- 
oner and sent in chains to England. 

1857. The siege of Lucknow, in In- 
dia, was raised by a force under General 
Havelock. This siege is memorable for 
the persistent defence, under great dis- 
tress, of the besieged, and the story of 
Jessie Brown, the Scotch girl, who heard 
the sound of the Highland pipes of the 
relieving column long before it came 
into sight. This story, however, is not 
credited by historians. 

1886. A novel accident took place 
near Glasgow, Scotland. A great blast 
of seven tons of powder was made in the 
Crarae granite-quarries on Loch Fyne, 
which dislodged over sixty thousand tons 
of rock. About three hundred spectators 
hurried in to see the effect of the blast, 
many of whom fell prostrate and insen- 
sible, while others went into convulsions. 
More than one hundred were thus af- 
fected by the choke-damp, or gas pro- 
duced by the explosion, of whom six 
died. 

ISoptenil>er SO, 

1768. A garrison of British soldiers, 
under General Gage, entered Boston, 
with the avowed purpose of enforcing 
the payment of duties and keeping the 
people in order. This occupation was 
l)ittcrly opposed by the Americans, and 
led to acts which wore the immediately 
instigating causes of the Revolutionary 
AVar. 

1866. Great inundations took place 
in Franco on this and poveral succeeding 
(hiys, much property being destroyed by 
the overflow uig rivers. 

1879. Doadvvood, in the Black Hills, 
Dakota, was almost destroyed by flro, the 
K)ss being |;2,r)00,000, and two thousand 
persons being loft honielcBS. 

RoptrimVjer 37. 

1777. Philadelphia wjvs occupied by 
the British army under Sir WilliHm 
Howe. 

1825. The Stockton and Darlington 
Railway, constructed by Edward Pooso 



and George Stephenson, was first opened 
for passenger traffic. On this, the pioneer 
passenger railway, the cars were drawn 
by horses. 

1854. The steamer Arctic was lost. 
This steamer, on her voyage from Liver- 
pool to New York, with more than four 
hundred persons on board, was struck, 
when about sixty-five miles from Cape 
Race, by the Vesta, an iron propeller, 
and injured so seriously that she quickly 
filled with water, and went down in 
about three hours, carrying with her 
most of the persons on board. Less 
than fifty were saved. She was running 
through a dense fog at the time of the 
collision. 

1 87 1. The slave-emancipation bill was 
passed in Brazil. This was a measure 
for gradual emancipation. It has been 
supplemented (1888) by a bill for com- 
plete and immediate emancipation. 

1876. The prizes to exhibitors at the 
Philadelphia Centennial Exhibition were 
awarded. There were about eleven thou- 
sand in all. 

1879. The Astley belt in the New 
York walking-match was won by Rowell, 
an Englishman, who walked five hun- 
dred and thirty miles in five days, twenty 
hours, and twenty-five minutes. 

1 88 1. An autopsy on the body of 
President Garfield showed that the doc- 
tors were mistaken and that the bullet 
had taken an entirely unexpected direc- 
tion. Its locality was such that it could 
not possibly have been extracted. 

1886. John Esten Cooke, a favorite 
novelist and biographer of Virginia, died. 
Among his best-known works are the 
novels " The Virginia Comedians" and 
" Leather Stocking and Silk," and biog- 
raphies of General Leo and Stonewall 
Jackson. 

1887. The third international yacht- 
race, between the British cutter Thistle 
and the American sloop Volunteer, took 
place at Now York. The Vohmtoer won. 
This race aroused much attention, being 
looked upon as a test of the British ami 
American methods of building. The 
civsy victory of the Volunteer excited 
much surprise. 

Hoptonil>er 3(^. 

490 B.C. The gre.'it battle of I^Iara- 
thon took phico o\\ this day, ox the 'J'.Uh, 
betweiMJ the Greeks and tho Persians. 
The Greek armv of 11,000 nu'U, com- 
miinded by Miltiailos, Aristidi'S, and 
Thomistoelos, dtifeatini the Poi-sian army 
of 110,(KK), and forced it to nan^at to 
Asia. 

1789. Thonuia Day, author of '• Sand- 
ford tmd Morton," a child's book of lung- 
continued popularity, died. 



458 



EVERY DAY'S RECORD. 



1849. The Turkish government re- 
fused to give up the Hungarian refugees 
Kossuth, Andrassy, and others, to the 
Austriana. They had escaped over the 
frontier after the close of the war for 
independence. 

1885. A riot took place in Montreal, 
Canada, in consequence of the smallpox 
regulations, particularly that of compul- 
sory vaccination. The ignorant Prench 
had been stirred up by mischievous per- 
sons, and a mob of them attacked the 
city hall. They threatened to burn the 
English newspaper offices, but were dis- 
persed by the police and many of them 
hurt. 

1887. The Yellow Kiver of China 
overflowed its banks in the province of 
Honan, submerging an area of seven 
thousand square miles. This district con- 
tained numerous populous towns, which 
were overflowed, with a loss of many 
thousands of lives. A vast amount of 
property was destroyed, and several mil- 
lions of people were left homeless, by 
this severe disaster, which was one of 
the most terrible known to history. 

Sei>teml>er 39. 

Michaelmas Day, or, properly, the Day 
of St. Michael and All Angels. This has 
long been a great feast-day of the Church 
of Rome, and is also a feast-day of the 
Church of England. Michael, in the 
Christian world, is the chief of the an- 
gelic host. His history is obscure, but 
is a militant one. He is mentioned five 
times in Scripture, and always as fightin*'. 

48 B.C. Pompey the Great was killed. 
This celebrated personage, after attain- 
ing great reputation in Rome as a mili- 
tary leader, joined Caesar and Crassus in 
forming the first triumvirate. After- 
wards a war arose between him and 
Ciesar, and he was defeated at the battle 
of Pharsalia (August 9, 48 B.C.) He 
fled to Egypt, where he was treacher- 
ously slain and his head cut off and 
taken to the conqueror. 

1540. Gustavus Vasa, a celebrated 
king of Sweden, died. By his valor he 
freed Sweden from the Danish rule, and 
was raised to the throne of the new 
kingdom in 1523. 

1613. The first general water-supply 
was introduced into the city of London. 
This supply was brought from New 
»River, the work, which was begun in 



1609, being performed against great diffi- 
culties and opposition by Hugh Myddle- 
ton, a celebrated engineer of that period. 
The water was disti'ibuted through the 
streets in pipes made*from the stems of 
small elm-trees, cut in six-feet lengths, 
drilled, and one end tapered so as to fit 
into the bore of the other. Four hundred 
miles of such pipes were laid. 

1 813. The Americans took possession 
of Detroit, which had been abandoned by 
the British on the approach of the army 
under General Harrison. This city had 
been taken by the British at the begin- 
ning of the war (August 16, 1812). 

1887. The prohibition constitutional 
amendment election took place in Ten- 
nessee. Prohibition was defeated by a 
majority of 27,693. 

September 30. 

1770. The Rev. George Whitefield, 
a celebrated itinerant preacher of the 
Methodist denomination, died. He was 
in the habit of making yearly rounds in 
the British islands, and repeatedly vis- 
ited America, where he preached to great 
congregations. He died in America, near 
Boston. 

1787. The ship Columbia started from 
Boston on a voyage round the world, the 
first performed by an American vessel. 
It sailed first by way of Cape Horn to 
the northwest coast of America, where it- 
took on a cargo of furs and sailed for 
China. From the latter country it re- 
turned by way of the Cape of Good Hope, 
reaching Boston in 1790. 

181 1. Thomas Percy, a noted English 
scholar, died. He is best known for his 
" Reliques of Ancient English Poetry," 
a work which has been often republished, 
and which is the best collection extant 
of the old ballad poetry of England. 

1851. The remains of Stephen Girard 
were removed to Girard College by the 
Eree Masons. 

1874. England took possession of the 
Feejee Islands. This group contains 
over two hundred islands, eighty of 
which are inhabited. The largest is 
about three hundred and sixty miles in 
circumference, with about sixty thousand 
inhabitants, twelve hundred of whom are 
Europeans. The islands had been of- 
fered by the king and chiefs to England 
in 1859, but not accepted. 



CURRENT NOTES. 459 

OTJEEENT l^TOTES. 



THERE has recently been published by the daily press of this city a list of the 
alum baking powders more prominently sold. This exposure is in the line 
of public policy heretofore commended in these pages. The most effective way 
to break up the manufacture and sale of adulterated articles of food is to publish 
their names. 

It is stated that these alum baking powders are sold under the guarantee 
that they are pure and wholesome cream of tartar articles. This is criminal. 
Sold for what they are, the consumer has an opportunity to avoid them. But if 
poison is given when pure food is asked for, the danger to the public is appalling. 

Alum, on account of its cheapness, is employed in the compounding of 
almost all the new brands of baking powder. Unscrupulous manufacturers who 
desire to reap all the profit possible from these powders for the short period during 
which only they know they can be foisted upon the public, naturally use the 
cheapest materials they can procure. Alum costs but three cents a pound, while 
cream of tartar costs from thirty to forty. The inducement to the business 
adventurer, who has no reputation to maintain, and is looking only for the present 
profit, when he finds that he can with this stuff make a powder at one-eighth the 
cost of a reputable article, is too great to be resisted. 

It is hardly necessary to recapitulate the evil effects of alum upon the human 
system. It is well understood to be injurious in a high degree. Dr. Waller, of 
the New York Board of Health, in a warning to the public against the use of 
these alum baking powders, stated that the action of the alum in the stomach 
was precisely the same as in the mouth ; it draws and puckers it up, producing 
unpleasant and dangerous disorders, dyspepsia, constipation, heart-burn, etc. 
Through the exposure made by the Royal Baking Powder Company of New 
York, which originally brought to light this practice of substituting alum for 
cream of tartar, the business was for a time largely checked, particularly in the 
East, where the highest medical and sanitary authorities condemned it in the 
strongest possible language, and earnestly seconded the efforts of the Royal 
Baking Powder Company to suppress it. 

There now seems to be an effort to revive the business, and wealthy corpora- 
tions, tlie owners of alum-mines, are engaged in the reprehensible buainesa of 
trying to make a market for the alum baking powders, notwithstanding their 
well-known detrimental character. 

At the time of the original exposure, Dr. Mott, Government Chemist, 
analyzed forty-two different saniplos of baking powder for the Government. Ho 
found more than one-half of thcHc to contain alum or other injurious ingredients ; 
and it is only fair to say, in passing, lie found also that the Royal Baking Powder 
stood the test, and in his report to the Government placed it at the head of tho 
list for purity and strength. The Rafety of tho public lies in tho use only of 
those baking powders of liighest character and old eatablishcd reputation. 

TilR criticism of Tennyson rcfcMTod to in Book-Talk appeared in tho Quar- 
terly Rcv'urw in 1833, and is a choice curiosity of literature. 

Tho llcviewcr in an ironic Htrnin talks about introducing " to tho admiration 
of our more scquoatorcd readers a new i>rodigy of genius, — another and a brighter 



460 CURRENT NOTES. 

star of that galaxy or milhy way of poetry of which the lamented Keats was the 
harbinger," Then he proceeds through fifteen pages to ridicule every idea and 
eveiy expression which by ingenuity and malice prepense can be tortured into 
material for his banter. Thus, quoting this verse, — 

Sweet as the noise, in parohSd plains, 
Of bubbling wells that fret the stones 
(If any sense in me remains), 
Thy words will be, thy cheerful tones 
As welcome to my crumbling bones, — 

he sees a very obvious possibility for jest in the words " If any sense in me 
remains." " This doubt," he says, " is inconsistent with the opening stanza of the 
piece, and, in fact, too modest : we take upon ourselves to reassure Mr. Tennyson 
that, even after he shall be dead and buried, as much sense will still remain as he 
has now the good fortune to possess." " The accumulation of tender images in 
the following lines appears not less wonderfiil : 

" Eemember you that pleasant day 
When, after rorlng in the woods 
('Twas April then), I came and lay 
Beneath those gummy ohestnut-buds ? 

" A water-rat from off the bank 

Plunged in the stream. With idle oare, 
Down looking through the sedges rank, 
I fcaw your troubled image there. 

" If you remember, you had set 
Upon the narrow oasement-edgo 
A long green box of mignonette, 
And you were leaning on the ledge. 

The poet's truth to nature in his gummy chestnut-buds, and to Art in the ' long 
green box' of mignonette, — and that masterly touch of likening the first intrusion 
of love into the virgin bosom of the miller's daughter to the plunging of the 
water-rat into the mill-dam, — these are beauties which, we do not fear to say, 
equal anything even in Keats." The strain of mockery is kept up throughout 
the remarks on the " Hesperides," " The Palace of Art," and " A Dream of Fair 
Women." 

" Ducks and Drakes" is, in the words of an old author quoted by Brand, " a 
kind of sport or play with an oister-shell or stone thrown into the water, and 
making circles yer it sinke." If the stone emerges once, it is a duck, and in- 
creases in the following order : 

1, 2, A duck and a drake, 

3 And a half-penny cake, 

4 And a penny to pay the old baker; 

5 A hop and a scotch 
Is another notch, 

6 Slitherum, slatherum, take her. 

From this game probably originated the phrase " making ducks and drakes with 
one's money," — i.e., throwing it away heedlessly. An early instance of the use of 
the phrase may be found in Strode's " Floating Island," Sig. 0. iv. Butler in 



CURRENT NOTES. 461 

" Hudibras" (Canto III. line 30) makes it one of the important qualifications of 
his conjurer to tell 

What figured slates are best to make 

On wat'ry surface duck or drake. 

A somewhat similar game was known among the Komans, and is alluded to by 
Minucius Felix and other ancient \vriters. 

" Conspicuous by its absence" is a phrase made popular in England by Lord 
John Russell. In his " Address to the Electors of the City of London," published 
April 6, 1859, he said of Lord Derby's Eeform Bill, which had just been defeated, 
" Among the defects of the bill, which are numerous, one provision is conspicuous 
by its presence, and another by its absence." The expression was sharply criti- 
cised, and nine days later, in a speech at London Tavern, he justified it thus : " It 
has been thought that by a misnomer, or a ' bull,' on my part, I alluded to a pro- 
vision as conspicuous by its absence, — a turn of phraseology which is not an 
original expression of mine, but is taken from one of the greatest historians of 
antiquity." This great historian is Tacitus. In his Annales, lib. iii. cap. 76, 
describing the funeral of Junia, he thus alludes to the absence of the images of 
her famous kinsmen Brutus and Cassius : " Sed prcefulgebani Cassius atque Brutus 
eo ipso, quod effigies eorum non videbantur." 

J. Ch^nier, in his tragedy of "Tiberius" (Act I., Scene I.), translating the 
expression into French, gave it the form which is familiar in English, 

Brutus et Cassius brillaient par leur absence, 

but which had already become familiar in France through its use by the Jan- 
senists when their enemies had succeeded in securing the omission of the names 
of Pascal and Arnauld from Perrault's History of Illustrious Men. It was re- 
vived, too, in Talleyrand's observation when some one called his attention to the 
fact that Lord Castlereagh at the Congress of Vienna wore no decorations : " Ma 
foi, c'est bien distingut" The latter story, however, is doubted by historians, and 
the late Prince Paul Galitzin received from his uncle, a member of the Congress, 
quite another version,— namely, that Galitzin and Castlereagh entered the council- 
chamber together, and the hitter, noticing a gentleman in plain dress, inquired 
who he was, and, on being told, " An attach^ of the Russian Embassy, just arrived 
from Bt. Petersburg," exclaimed, ^^ Comment I un Russe sans decorations / II doit 
ttre un homme bien distingut /" 

" Beauty is only skin-deep," is a common saying that in one form or another 
may be found in the proverbial lore of all countries. In literature the following are 
early examples of ita use. In " The Nosegay," by Thomas Becon ( Edition Parker 
Society, p. 203), occurs the j^assago, " And to say the truth, is beauty any other 
thing than, as Ludovicus Vivos saith, * as [sic] little skin well colored? If the 
inward parts,* saith he, 'could be seen, how great filthinws wouM there appear, 
even in the most beautiful j)erKon 1' " There is a niiuilar qut)tation in "Tlio 
Jewel of Joy," page 437. The pa.ssnge from Tjudovicus Vivea is, " In corporo 
ipso quid forma est? nempo mtticula bene colorafa," ote. (Iwod. Vivia. Vnlent. 
Op., " Introd. ad Sap.," 61, torn. ii. cols. 72-8, Ihxa'xl, 1566.) Sir Thomiui Ovor- 
bury, in his poem "A Wife," Bays, — 



462 CURRENT NOTES, 

And all the carnall beauty of my wife 
Is but skin-deep. 

Similarly Moli^re says, — 

La beauti du visage est un frele ornement, 
Une fleur passagSre, un §clat d'un moment, 
Et qui n'est attach^ qu'^ la simple 6piderme. 

Lea Femwea Savantes, III. vi. 

The last manuscript that came from the busy pen of the Eev. E. P. Koe 

(completed, indeed, only a day before his death) was an autobiographical sketch, 
in which he gives many interesting anecdotes of his literary career. Taking as 
his title a phrase from one of Matthew Arnold's attacks on America, " A Native 
Author called Roe," he improves the occasion to answer all unfriendly critics in 
a kindly and friendly way. The article gives a valuable insight into an excep- 
tionally charming and generous character, and will warm many hearts towards 
the dead novelist. It will appear in the October number of LippincoWs Magazine^ 
which will be a special "E. P. Roe number," containing this autobiography, 
his last story, " Queen of Spades," and personal reminiscences by a friend and 
acquaintance. 

It is now announced that the author of " From 18 to 20," the new society 
novel whose authorship has puzzled all Philadelphia, is Miss Elizabeth Jandon 
Sellers, the young daughter of David W. Sellers, Esq., one of the leaders of the 
Philadelphia bar, and law-partner of Judge Mitchell. The first edition of this 
book was exhausted within two days after publication, and the second was all 
sold in advance of delivery. 

"The Quick or the Dead?" is still the most popular book of the season. 
For a time the presses found it hard work to keep up with the demand, but the 
number in every new edition has been materially increased, and though the 
presses are never -idle, they are keeping just ahead of the demand (larger now 
than ever), and the book has rarely run out of print. 

The American Notes and Queries (William S. Walsh, Publisher, 619 Walnut 
Street, Philadelphia) is invaluable to all keepers of scrap-books, from the mass 
of curious information which it contains that is unattainable in any other form. 
An interesting feature is the Prize Questions, for the best answers to which One 
Thousand Dollars are offered. Weekly. $3 per year; 10 cents per single 
number. 

A NEW department, " Every Day's Record," is started in this number of 
LippincotVs, and will continue to be a monthly feature. It will be found full 
of information, told in an interesting manner, and invaluable for purposes of 
reference. 

Mr. James Hunter, well known as the editor of Ogilvie's Imperial Dic- 
tionary and of the Supplement to Worcester's Dictionary, has accepted an edi- 
torial position on the American Notes and Queries, of Philadelphia. 



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Do Not Ignore Self. 

HE who does his duty to others leaves a part undone if he neglect his duty 
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HEAVEN AND ITS WONDERS. THE WORLD 
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Also THE LAST JUDGMENT, as witnessed by 
him in the spiritual world in 1757; The Doc- 
trine of Life, The Sacred Scriptures, The New 
Jerusalem and its Heavenly Do<5b:ine, in all, 750 
odlavo pages mailed prepaid for $1.00. Dis- 
count to the trade. Address, American Swed- 
enborg Printing and Publishing Societ>', 20 
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BOOKS 



Catalogue No. 20 of Scarce and Out-of- 

" Library 
auplication. FRANCIS P. HARPER. 



Print Books .ind Library Editions sent on 



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GOOD LUCK BUTTOIT 

ThlslstheOftmjiaWn Bntton you Kro look- 
liiKfnr. MHda In tho B)iH|)oof M harso* 
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U. NASUX ,% CO. MTr. Ill Ahmam 0(r«ol JH Y 



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EDEN. 

By Edgar Saltus, author of "The Truth about Tristrem Varick," etc. Qoth, $i.cx). Paper, 
50 cents. In this novel Mr. Saltus describes an episode in a honeymoon. The plot is 
dramatic, the action nervous, and the scene Fifth Avenue. As a picture of contemporaneous 
life it will be condemned by every lover of the commonplace. 

EROS. 

A Novel. By Laura Daintrey, author of " Miss Varian, of New York," " Caprice," etc., etc. 
i2mo. Cloth, j^ 1. 00. Paper covers, 50 cents. Strong, interesting, and a seller. Order at 
once to secure supply from first edition. 

WOMAN THE STRONGER. 

A Novel. By Wm. J. Flagg. i2mo. Cloth, ^i. 00. Paper covers, 50 cents. Third Edition. 
You cannot make a mistake in ordering a lot of this unique American story. It is beauti- 
fully made, and sells at sight. 

MARIE. 

A Seaside Episode. By J. P. Ritter, Jr. With Illustrations by Coultaus. Cloth, $1.00. 
Paper covers, 50 cents. In this poem the author tells an interesting love-story in an exceed- 
ing bright, clever, and amusing fashion, that reminds one a good deal of Byron's " Beppo." 
Incidentally, he satirizes society in a light vein of humor, and in a style that is graceful and 
epigrammatic. The volume contains over forty illustrations, and is an admirable specimen 
of the bookmaker's art. 

RUSSIA: the Land of the Nihilist. 

By W. E. Curtis. 200 Illustrations. i2mo. Cloth, ^i. 00. Paper covers, 50 cents. This is 
not only a well-written description of the scenery and manners of the people of Russia, 
but also a faithful guide-book to the " Land of the Nihilist." The book is written by an 
American journalist, who specially travelled over Russia to gather the data and take sketches 
from nature for this book. It is unquestionably the only reliable work on Russia. 

KISSES OF FATE. 

By E. Heron-Allen. l2mo. Cloth, jjSi.oo. Paper covers, 50 cents. Three hundred pages of 
as delightful reading as we have ever published. Julian Hawthorne compliments Mr. 
Allen as being the ablest of the many young writers competing for American readers' favor. 
Sure to sell. 

THE TALE OF THE SHAKSPERE EPITAPH. 

By FRANCIS BACON 

(Baron Verulam and Viscount St. Albans). 
Translated from the ANGLO-PHONETIC by Edward Gordon Clark. i2mo. Cloth, 
$1.00. Paper covers, 50 cents. The story in this book is, to say the least, queer, and, if 
true, extraordinary. Whether true or not, it is interesting. Mr. Clark says he has dis- 
covered a history written by Francis Bacon, in the anglo-phonetic language; that he (Bacon) 
wrote the plays and poems attributed to Shakspere; that the immortal poet was a " bad lot" 
— a theatre manager, forsooth, got awfully drunk, and remained so all liis life; beat his 
wife; stole plays and what not; and was at last murdered by Ben Johnson and Bacon him- 
self while having a high old time in a tavern. This is not all by any means, but it will 
suffice to whet the appetite of the curious. 

AN APPEAL TO THE AMERICAN PEOPLE 
AS A JURY. 

SPEECHES ON THE TARIFF delivered in the House of Representatives in the great 
debate, April 17-May 19, 1888. Specially selected from both sides. Carefully revised and 
published by authority. Compiled by WILLIAM G. TERRELL. Largo i2mo. Cloth, $1.00. 
Paper, 50 cents. The following is a list of the names of the honorable gentlemen whose 
speeches are printed in the work : 
Hon. Mr. MiUa, of Texas. 
" " Kelley, of PennBvIvania. 
" " Scott, '' 

" " Wilson, of Minnesota. 
" McKlnley, of Ohio. 



Hon. Mr. McMlIlin, of Tennessee. 
Butterworth, of Ohio. 
" " Cox, of New York. 
" " Burrows, of Michigan. 
Read, of Maine. 
Hon. Mr. Carliala, of Kantucky. 



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i'lticaffo, \etr I'ork, auti Sun F»*«iNctff»c«. 

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J ■B'jUPPmcoTTCoAPAnys 

BULLETin-op'- ■ 

puBueATions 

PHII^ADHI^PIIIA, SHPXBIWBKR, 1888. 

THIS BULLETIN contains A LIST of our NEW PUBLICATIONS, with brief 
notices of their contents, etc., together with an announcement of WORKS 
now IN PRESS to be issued shortly. 
Our Publications are for Sale by Booksellers generally, or if not obtainable of 
them, will be sent by mail, post-paid, upon receipt of price. 




JUST ISSUED. 
Benedicta. 

A Novel. By Mrs. Alfred Phillips. No. 88 of Llppincott's Serks of Select 
Novels. 16mo. Half cloth. 50 cents. Paper. 25 cents. 

Highways and Horses. 

By Athol Maudsley. With Numerous Illustrations. One Volume. 8vo. 
Bound in cloth. $5.50. 

A Popular History of Music^ 

Musical Instruments, Ballet, and Opera, prom St. Ambrose to Mozart. 
By James E. Matthew. One Hundred and Fifty Illustrations, consisting of 
Portraits, Musical Instruments, Fac-Similes of Rare and Early Musical Typog- 
raphy, etc. $4.00. 

" It is pleasantly written, and derives much of its interest from the copious supply of 

selected illustrations which are introduced, and which along with fac-similes of rare and 

early musical typography enhance the value of the text." — Publishers^ Circular, London. 

" A handsome volume. Taken altogether, it may he cordially recommended to the 

attention of the musical world." — London Graphic. 

The Complete Works in Verse and Prose of Percy 

Bysshe Shellet. Edited, Prefaced, and Annotated by Richard Hbrne 

Shepperd. Each Volume Complete in Itself 

POETICAL WORKS IN THREE VOLUMES. 
Vol. 1. " The Posthumous Fragments of Margaret Nicholson," " The Wandering 

Jew," " Queen Mab," "Alastor, Rosalind, and Helen," " Prometheus Unbound," 

"Adonais," etc. 
Vol. 2. " Laon and Cythna," " The Cenci," " Julian and Maddalo," " Swcllfoot 

the Tyrant," "The Witch of Atlas," " Epipsyohidion," " Ilella.^." 
Vol. 3. " Posthumous Poems," " The Masque of Anarchy," and Other Poems. 

PROSE WORKS IN TWO VOLUMES. 
Vol. 1. " Two Romances of Zastrozzi and St. Irvyno," "A Refutation of Doism," 

'* Letters to Leigh Hunt," etc. 
Vol. 2. '* The Essays," " Letters from Abroad," " Translations and Fragments." 

*' Bibliography of Shelley," and an ExhauHtive Index. 
In Sots of Five Volumes, ('loth. $(i.25. Half morocco, gilt top. $10.00. 

Three quarters calf. $15.00. A Largo Puper tMiixon is also in Preparation 

(Only One Hundro<l Copies Printr.lY $20.00. 

9 



NEW PUBLICATIONS OF J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, 

The Life of the Eight Bon. W. E. Forster. 

By T. Wemyss Eeid. Two Volumes. Demy. 8vo. With Portraits and other 
Illustrations. Bound in cloth. $8.00. 

From 18 to 20. 

A Novel. By Elizabeth Jaudon Sellers. 12mo. Attractive cloth binding. 
$1.00. 

As the title indicates, this story relates to the most fascinating period of woman's life 
and quite naturally introduces one into society's gay circles. Not many pages need to be 
turned before it is very evident that the author not only wields a skilful pen but writes 
whereof she knows. 

" The love-story of the book, indeed, is managed with no little skill, while the more 
serious scenes are written with an excellent appreciation of the finer humanities- The 
work altogether is one that will address itself to the cordial likings of a multitude of 
readers." — Philadelphia Evening Telegraph. 

"A vivacious novel. As a picture of the feelings and experiences of a girl just 
entering society it is an animated and interesting book." — Baltimore News. 

The Animal Life of Our SeaShore. 

With Special Reference to the New Jersey Coast and the Southern Shore of Long 

Island. By Angelo Heilprin, Professor of Invertebrate Paleontology at the 

Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia ; author of " The Geological 

Evidences of Evolution," " Town Geology," " The Lesson of the Philadelphia 

Rocks," etc. Fully Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth. $1.25. Paper. 50 cents. 

A volume of this nature has long been a desideratum with visitors and residents at 

the seaside, and an acquaintance with its contents will add very much to the pleasure of 

every ramble along the beach. The various forms of animal life which are constantly 

attracting attention — their nature, uses, habits, resorts, etc. — are accurately described in 

an easy, attractive, and popular style free from technicalities. The volume is very readable, 

and will prove an agreeable change for those surfeited with the ordinary summer light 

reading, and a fruitful source of information and amusement to all who are interested 

in the study of nature. The numerous illustrations which render the identification of 

specimens very easy add materially to the value of the work. 

**A work that will certainly prove extremely interesting to all during their summer 
vacations. It may be relied upon as being thoroughly accurate, and tells just what you 
want to know." — New York Science. 

"A valuable and pleasant little hand-book. It is cheap, untechnical, well illustrated, 
soundly scientific, and is just the thing for any sea-shore wayfarer or resident who has the 
intelligence and taste to care to look into the wonders of the deep." — New Fork Graphic. 

The Chemical Analysis of Iron. 

A Complete Account of All the Best-Known Methods for the Analysis of Iron, 
Steel, Pig-iron, Iron Ore, Limestone, Slag, Clay, Sand, Coal, Coke, Furnace and 
Producer Gases. By Andrew Alexander Blair, Chief Chemist United 
States Board, Appointed to Test Iron, Steel, and Other Metals, 1876; Chief 
Chemist United States Geological Survey and Tenth Census, 1880. Octavo. 
Handsomely Illustrated. Extra cloth. $4.00. 

Considering the enormous extent of new iron and steel industries, and their depend- 
ence upon chemistry, this work should be a welcome addition to the literature of the subject. 
It is intended as. a text-book for students of iron-chemistry, and as a book of reference 
for analytical chemists interested in this branch of the profession. It contains a descrip- 
tion of many forms of useful apparatus and the means for preparing and testing all the 
reagents required in the analysis of iron, and also includes a chapter on the technical 
analysis of furnace and producer gases. The author'8 oflScial relations have given him 
unusual advantages in this class of work, and the methods described embrace not only the 
elaborate and exact ones necessary for scientific purposes, but all the rapid processes in use 
at steel works. 

" It is a hund-book which will be found invaluable by the metallist, and may be con- 
sidered the best book of the sort in the market." — Boston Couj'ier. 

"A technical work that has cost a good deal of study, and it ought to find ready sale 
among iron-masters and analytical chemists." — The Wisconsin^ Milwaukee. 

10 



NEW PUBLICATIONS OF J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY. 



The Honomrahle Mrs. Vereker. 



A New Novel by the "Duchess," author, of " Marvel," ''A Modern Circe," etc. 
No. 87 of I/ippincott^ s Series of Select Novels. Half cloth. 50 cents. Paper. 
25 cents. 

" The story is decidedly bright and entertaining reading." — Boston Home Journal. 
" There is no author in fiction to compare with the ' Duchess,' and each of her novels 
reaches thousands of readers." — Boston Globe. 

Laconisms. 

The Wisdom of Many in the Words op One. By J. M. P. Otts, D.D., 

LL.D. Small 12mo. Extra cloth. 75 cents. 

The author, who is well known as an eminent Presbyterian clergyman, expresses in 
this little volume his opinions on a variety of subjects, — literary, religious, social, and 
political. He is evidently a close student of bo»ks and shrewd observer of men and things, 
and has contrived to pack into the smallest compass a vast amount of wisdom. 

" The work consists of pithy sayings, the result of wide reading and much thought. 
It reflects credit on the author's taste and ambition, and will please many who are 
curious in the things to which it is devoted." — Boston Gazette. 

Brueton^s Bayou and Miss Defarge. 

No. 2 of The Series of Americcm Novels. By John Habberton, author of 
" Helen's Babies," and Frances Hodgson Burnett, author of " That Lass o' 
Lowries." Complete in One Volume. Square 12mo. Extra cloth. $1.00. 
Paper. 50 cents. 

"A good book to put in the satchel for a railway trip or ocean voyage." — Chicago Cur- 
rent. 

"In every way worthy of the best of our American story- writers." — Washington 
Public Opinion. 

" It 18 safe to say that no two more charming stories were ever bound in one cover 
than these." — New Orleans Picayune. 

"Two thoroughly good and entertaining American novels. The literary character 
of the authors will attract every cultivated reader." — Boston Globe. 

The Deserter a/nd From the Banks. 

No. 1 of The Series of American Novels. By Capt. Charles King, author of 
" The Colonel's Daughter," " Marion's Faith," etc. Square 12mo. Extra cloth. 
$1.00. Paper. 50 cents. 

" A pleasant addition to summer reading." — Boston Jour 7ial. 

" These novelettes are good examples of the vivacious and graceful style of Captain 
King, a writer who steadily increases in popularity both at home and abroad." — Philadel- 
phia American. 

" The piazzia and hammock haunter will be hard to please who cannot find enjoyment 
in these capital stories." — Boston Advertiser. 

" It is a relief, indeed, to turn from the dismal introspection of mucli of our modern 
ilction to the fresh naturalness of such stories as these." — New York Ch-itir. 

The Quick or the Bead? 

Am^lie Rives's Groat Novel. With a Portrait of the Author. Published com- 
plete in lAppincotCs Magazine for April, 1888. 25 cents. Half cloth. 60 
oents. 

"The novel is exceedingly striking, full of color-language, like a brilliant painting, 
and strong in its drawing, like a magnillcont otchirjg."- -/V»n.s»/ira;»/a;j, 

" It has splendor of imagination and exquisite description ; perfect figures, with all 
the hurried, quick movement of its dramatic incidents ; is almost perfect in execution." — 
Lafayette Sunday Leader. * 

Mammon. 

By Maud Howe Elliott, author of "A Newport Aquarelle," "Atalanta in the 
South," etc. PubliHhcd complete in Lippxncott's Magaxinr for August, 1888. 
25 oonts. Half cloth. 50 eontu. 

11 



NEW PUBLICATIONS OF J. B. LIPPINCOU COMPANY. 



Picked Up m the Streets. 



A Romance from the German of H. Sohobert. By Mrs. A. L. Wister. 12mo. 
Extra cloth. $1.25. 

"Mrs. Wister's expert hand and adaptive gifts have made the translation of this 
German novel an interesting story for a summer afternoon." — New York Independent 

"Mrs. "Wister is something more than a translator: she is herself a natural story- 
teller. She does not translate literally, she adapts, and that is why her books are so univer- 
sally successful." — Boston Home Journal. 

A Treatise on Mine- Surveying. 

For the Use of Managers of Mines and Collieries. By Bennett H. Brough, Asso- 
ciate and Demonstrator of Mine-Surveying at the Royal School of Mines, London, 
England. With Numerous Illustrations. 300 pages. Crown 8vo. Cloth. $2.50. 
A most important and accurate work on a subject which has been but imperfectly 
treated heretofore. It describes the most approved forms of American instrumeftts and 
the methods used in the unusually accurate surveys made in the Pennsylvania Anthracite 
mines, as well as those adopted in the survey of metalliferous mine-claims in the Western 
United States. The usual British mine-surveying practice is also duly discussed, and the 
elaborate methods in use on the continent of Europe are described, it is believed for the 
first time, in the English language. 

"A complete and practical work. ... It must be of advantage to all interested in 
this direction." — Chicago Mining Review. •* 

International Statesman Series. 

Edited by Lloyd C. Sanders. 
Under this title a new series of biographical stu'dies of the great men who have influ- 
enced the social and political history of the world is announced. Its scope will be com- 
prehensive, embracing the ancients and the moderns, and including not only the creators 
of the English Commonwealth, but also the makers of European and American politics, 
and the founders of the Indian and Colonial Empires. The list of subjects again will com- 
prise not only those who are statesmen in the narrower sense of the term, that is, ministers 
of state and members of legislative assemblies, but those who, in the capacity of temporal 
or spiritual autocrats, have acted as their own prime ministers, as well as constitutional 
sovereigns and presidents, who, though in theory they are deprived of governmental pre- 
rogatives, continue nevertheless to exercise a very appreciable influence on the fortunes of 
the dominions over which they rule. 

LORD BEACONSFIELD. By T. E. Kebbel, Author of "A History of 

Toryism." Cloth. 75 cents. 
" The portrayal we need hardly say is thoroughly sympathetic, and in fact the reader 
who desires to know what Lord Beaconsfleld was, both as man and statesman, could not do 
better than take Mr. Kebbel as his guide." — Globe. 

" His book contains useful information well arranged, and a defence or apology which, 
though a little too persistent for the rules of art, is moderate, honest, and intelligent." — 
Saturday Review. 

VISCOUNT PALMERSTON. By Lloyd C. Sanders. Cloth. 75 cents. 

" Readers will flnd here a very clear, well-informed, and orderly account of the life of 
the last English statesman whose career can be regarded with almost entire satisfaction by 
all good Englishmen. . . . A true and well-intentioned book about Palmerston must always 
be among the most delightful of political biographies for an Englishman, who is an 
Englishman, to read." — Saturday Review. 

" It appears to us to be most admirably executed." — London Athenceum. 

OCONNELL. By J. A. Hamilton, Fellow of Magdalen College, Oxford. 
(In Press.) 

PRINCE METri:RNICH. By Colonel G. B. Malleson, C.S.L (In 

Press.) 

The following volumes are in a state of active preparation and the date of their 
appearance will be duly announced : Peel, by F. C. Montague, Fellow of Oriel College, 
Oxford ; Lord Bolingbroko, William Pitt, Charles James Fox, The Marquis Wellesley, 
The Prince Consort, Lord Dalhousie, Earl Russell, Lord Derby, Prince Gortschakoff, 
Gambetta, and others. 

12 



HE\N PUBLICATIONS OF J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY. 



The Merchant of Venice. 

Volume VII. of the Variorum Edition op Shakespeare. Edited by 
Horace Howard Furness. Royal 8vo. Extra cloth. Gilt top. $4.00. 

j' Notwithstanding tlie rich harvest arising from the constant activity of Shakespearian 
students all over the world, we do not hesitate to say that Howard Furness's Variorum 
Edition is one of the most notable contributions to Shakespeare literature in the present 
century. The text is that of the First Folio, but the various readings of the other editions 
are carefully stated. Each passage is annotated so that the reader has the benefit of the 
counsel of commentators old and new. Further illustrative matter is consigned to the 
appendix." — Manchester {Eng,) Guardian. 

"A large and extremely handsome volume, with every perfection of mechanical 
features, containing the text of the first folio, with notes that enable one to study Shakes- 
peare as the Greek poets are studied, weighing every phrase, every word, every syllable." 
— New York World. 

Our Mutual Friend. (2 Vols^) 

Just Ready. Handy Edition of Dickens's Works, to be completed in 30 vols. 1 6mo. 
Previously issued: "Little Dorrit," 2 vols. "A Tale of Two Cities," 1 vol. 
" Dombey and Son," 2 vols. "A Child's History of England," 1 vol. " Old 
Curiosity Shop" and Reprinted Pieces, 2 vols. " Edwin Drood and Miscel- 
lanies," 1 vol. "American Notes," etc., 1 vol. " Bleak House," 2 vols. 
" Barnaby Rudge," 2 vols. " Pickwick Papers," 2 vols. " Christmas Stories," 
1 vol. " Sketches by Boz," 1 vol. " Nicholas Nickleby," 2 vols. " Great 
Expectations," 1 vol. " Martin Chuzzlewit," 2 vols. " Christmas Books," 1 
vol. « Oliver Twist," 1 vol. " David Copperfield," 2 vols. Half cloth. 50 
cents per vol. Half morocco. $1.00 per vol. 
In Course of Preparation. — "Uncommercial Traveller," 1 vol. 
The clear type, fine thin paper, with uncut edges and neat binding, make these little 
books as elegant as one need wish, while the low price will enable all lovei-s of Dickens to 
possess, at a very small outlay, a good edition of his works, 

BOOKS IN PRESS. 

The Writer^s Band-Book. 

A General Guide to the Art of Composition and Style. A Valuable Work for 
All who would be Well Informed upon these Important Subjects. Uniform with 
" Brewer's Reader's Hand-Book." 1vol. 12mo. Half morocco. $2.50. 

A Marriage of Shadows^ and Other Poems. 

By Margaret Veley. With Biographical Preface by Leslie Stephen. 16mo. 
Cloth. $1.00. 

Sinfire and Douglas Duane. 

No. 3 of The Series of Amei-ican Novels. By Julian Hawthorne, author of 
" Archibald Malmaison," etc., and Edgar Fawoett, author of "A Gentleman 
of Leisure," etc. Square 12mo. Extra cloth. $1.00. Paper. 50 cents. 

Tenure and Toil; or^ Eights and Wrongs of 

Property and Labor. Tracing the Origin of the Right of Property and the 
History of Tenures, and Proposing such Remedial Legislation as is Nooessjiry to 
Limit Ownership of Laud, Restrict Capital, Destroy Trustw, and Protect Labor. 
By John Gibbons, LL.D., of the Chicago Bar. 

Jesus in Modern Life. 

By Algernon Sydney Logan, author of "Saul," "A Feather from the World's 
Wing," etc. 

An Elementary Treatise on Human Anatomy. 

By Joseph Lkidy, l^rofossor of Anatomy iu the University of PoiniHylvaiiitt. 

18 



NEW PUBLICATIONS OF J. B. LIPPINCOJT COMPANY. 



Embroidery and Lace. 

By Ernest Lep^^evre. Translated from the French, with about One Hundred and 
Fifty Illustrations. One volume. Large 12mo. $3.50. 

The Bronte Novels. 

Handy Edition. Seven volumes. Uniform with the Handy Editions of Thackei-ay 
and Dickens. Half cloth. 50 cents per vol. Half morocco. $1.00 per vol. 

Half 'Hours with the Best Foreign Authors. 

Translations selected and arranged by Charles Morris. 4 vols. Crown 8vo. 
Uniform with " Half-Hours with the Best American Authors." Also an Edition 
de Luxe, Limited to One Hundred Copies. In 4 vols. Octavo. 

A Cyclopcedia of Diseases of Children 

And Their Treatment, Medical and Surgical. Edited by J. M. Keating, 
M.D. 

A New Novel 

By Mrs. H. Lovett Cameron, author of "A Life's Mistake," " In a Grass 
Country," " Pure Gold," etc. 

Memoirs of a Royalist. 

By M. De Falloux. An Historical Work of the Times of Louis Philippe. Two 
Volumes. 8vo. Illustrated. 

Life of Henry M. Stanley. 

By Rev. H. W. Little. One Volume. 8vo. 

With the Camel Corps Up the Nile. 

By Count Gleichen, Nephew of Queen Victoria. With Numerous Illustrations. 
One Volume. Small 8vo. 

Aunt Diana. 

A Story for Girls. By Rosa Nouohette Carey. Illustrated. A Book for 
Girls. Uniform with "Esther." $1.25. 

Girls^ Own Book. 

A volume containing a vast amount of information and amusement. Small 4to. 
Illustrated. Cloth. $1.75. 

Botany. 

For Academies and Colleges. By Annie Chambers-Ketohum. Plant 
Development and Structure from Sea- weed to Clematis. Two Hundred and Fifty 
Illustrations, and a Manual of Plants, including all the known Orders, with their 
Representative Genera. 

The OwVs Nest. 

From the German of E. Marlitt. By Mrs. A. L. Wister, author of " Picked 
Up in the Streets," " Saint Michael," etc. 

Inebriety : 

Its Causes, Its Results, Its Remedy. By Franklin D. Clum, M.D., 
author of " Men and Women." 

14 



NEW PUBLICATIONS OF J. B. UPPINCOTT COMPANY. 

Boys' Book of In-Door Sports. 

Small 4to. Illustrated. Cloth. $1.75. 

Boys^ Book of Out-Boor Sports. 

Small 4to. Illustrated. Cloth. $1.75. 

New Monotint Books and Booklets. 

J. B. Lippincott Company have published this season, in connection with Messrs. 
Griffith, Farran & Co., of London, a series of artistic gift books and booklets, illus- 
trated by English artists of repute, under the editorship of Mr. Geo. C. Haite (Mem- 
ber of Council of the Society for the Encouragement of the Fine Arts). They beg to 
draw special attention to the fact that these books are printed in England, on English- 
made paper, and will in every way equal, where they do not excel, their artistic publica- 
tions of the past two years. 

The market has of late been flooded with books and booklets, many of them made 
up of designs which have done service as Christmas, birthday, and other cards, printed 
abroad, mainly by German houses, and the publishers have much pleasure in bringing 
forward a new series, that will compare favorably in every way with the best and most 
beautiful books of the kind which have appeared in recent years. 

SEVENTY-FIVE CENT SERIES. 

32 pages each. Small 4to. In Attractive Colored Cover and Wrapper. Gilt Edges 
and Round Corners. 24 pages Monotints, 8 pages Text. 

SEVEN OF US, The History of Seven Puppies and Seven Kittens as 
Described by Themselves. Illustrated by Fannie Moody, Christine and 
Gertrude Demain Hammond. 

THE STORY OF THE GROSS. Illustrated by F. Hamilton Jackson. 

LASSES AND LABS. Rustic Child-Life. Illustrated by Edith Stanley 
Berkeley. 

THE MESSAGE OF LOVE. English Landscapes. Illustrated by John 
Full wood. 

FIFTY-CENT SERIES. 

24 pages each. Small 4to. In Attractive Colored Cover and VVrappei'. Gilt Edges 
and Round Corners, 16 pages Monotints, 8 pages Text. 

PL A YMA TES. Studies and Scenes of Child-Life. Illustrated by Florence 
Maplestone. 

HE LOVETH ALL. Illustrated by Rosa Jameson and Alfred W. 
Strutt, KB. a. 

THE TRAVELLER. Scenes of Old England. IHustrated by J. Finne- 
more. 

OUR FATHER'S PROMJSES. Illustrated by Geo. C. Haite and C\ 

RiOKETTS. 

TWENTY-FIVE CENT SERIES. 

1(> pages each. Small 8vo. In Attnictivo Colorod Covrr nnd \N luppor. (nil K.Iimp 
and Round CornorH. 12 pages Monotints, 4 pages Text. 

GOLDEN LOVE. Illustrated by CiiAs. Hauds. 

A CIIAPLET OF GEMS. Illustrated by Kdith Maplestoni. 

A SUMMER'S I)A Y. Illustrated by Annlr and Louisa Manvillk Fbnn. 

ART THOU WEARY f Illustrated by Evilink and William Lanob. 

16 



HE)N PUBLICATIONS OF J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY. 

ATTRACTIVE SUMMER READING. 
Country Luck. 

A Novel. By John Habberton, author of " Brueton's Bayou," " Helen's 
Babies," etc. 12mo. Extra cloth. $1.00. 

" Mr. Habberton has not left a weak point in this story, which is one of the best that 
has been issued this year, furnishing a rich entertainment from the opening to the closing 
chapter." — Boston Home Journal. 

A Summer in Oldport Harbor. 

A Novel. By W. H. Metcalf. 12mo. Cloth. $1.25. 
"A breezy novel, full of the flavor of out-door life, and just the book to take up at 
the sea-shore for an idle hour on the piazza." — Boston Gazette. 

Vacation Cruising in Chesapeake and Delaware 

Bays. By J. T. Rothrock, M.D. 12mo. Illustrated. Cloth. $1.50. 
" The work is just suited to the task of teaching the summer-seeker of health or 
recreation how the vacation should be spent. Dr. Kothrock tells stories of places and 
things the regular guide-books know nothing of, and to those who have any idea of enjoy- 
ing a vacation the book is invaluable." — The Independent. 

The Story of Don Miff, 

As Told by His Friend, John Bouche Whacker. A Symphony of Life. 
Edited by Virginius Dabney. Fifth Edition. 12mo. Cloth. $1.25. 
One of the most decidedly original and refreshing books in the whole range of 
American fiction. It commands the following high praise from a leading English 
literary journal. 

" It is a most delightful book ; full of mysterious surprises. Hardly a single chapter 
can be read without a laugh, and there are some which will bring an inevitable lump into 
the reader's throat. The characters are refreshingly natural and human. Taken altogether, 
it is one of the most entertaining books we have read of late." — London Pall Mall Gazette. 

On Both Sides. 

By Frances Courtenay Baylor. Containing " The Perfect Treasure" aud 
" On This Side," the whole forming a complete story. 12mo. Cloth. $1.25. 
" The best international novel that either side has hitherto produced, — written by an 
American woman who really knows both countries, and who has shown that she possesses 
powers which ought to put her in the front rank of fiction," — New York ^Tribune. 

Behind the Blue Ridge. 

A Homely Narrative. By Frances Courtenay Baylor, author of " On Both 
Sides," etc. 12mo. Extra cloth. $1.25. 

"A capital novel, strong, vivid, well written, and full of humor of a very gratifying 
kind." — Literary World, Boston. 

One of the Duanes. 

By Alice King Hamilton. 12mo. Cloth. $1.25.^ Paper. 25 cents. 
"An intensely interesting book, as when did a story of army life, cither in time of 
peace or war, fail to be." — Boston Globe. 

Taken by Siege. 

A Novel. 12mo. Cloth. $1.25. 
"The story deals with the living forces and events of to-day, and is one of the most 
vital, and strong, and keenly interesting of late novels." — Boston Evening Traveller. 

16 



LIPPINCOTrS MONTHLY MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 



Mount Holly (N. J.) Academy for Boys. 

Healthful, helpful, homelike. 

KENRY M. WALRADT (Yalb), Principal. 



Wilson College for Young Women. 

Fifty miles southwest of Harrisburg, in famous Cum- 
berland Valley. From Baltimore four hours, Philadel- 
phia five, New York seven, Pittsburgh nine hours. Six 
trains daily. Border climate, avoiding bleak north. $250 
per year for board, room, etc., and all College Studies 
except Music and Art. Large Music College and Art 
School. Music Department, last year, 135. Full Faculty. 
College Course, B.A. degree. Music College, B.M. 
Handsome Park, Large Buildings, Steam Heat, Gymna- 
sium, Observatory, Laboratory, etc. For catalogue, ad- 
dress Rev. J, Edgar, Ph.D., Pres't, Chambersburg, Pa. 



Ogontz School for Young Ladies, 

Removed in 1883 from Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, 
to Ogontz, the spacious country seat of Jay Cooke, will 
begin its thirty-ninth year Wednesday, September 26th. 
For circulars, apply to Principals. 

Principals. Emeritus Principals, 

Miss Frances E. Bennett, Miss M, L. Bonney, 

Miss Sylvia J. Eastman. Miss H, A. Dillaye. 



Freehold (N. J.) Institute. 

Forty-fifth year. Prepares for Business or for any 
College. Backward boys taught privately. Send for 
Catalogues to 

Rev, A. G. CHAMBERS, A,M., Principal. 



Lawrenceville School. 

JFohn C. Ch'een Votindatioti. 

For catalogue and information, address 

Rev. JAMES C. MACKENZIE, Ph.D., 

Lawrenceville, New Jersey, 



National School of Elocntion aM Oratory 

JAMES £. MUBDOCH, President. 

Sixteenth year begins September 24th, Large and 
experienced staflF of teachers, each a specialist. Three 
graduating courses. Grants diplomas and confers de- 
grees. Catalogue, containing full information, sent upon 
application to the Secretary, 

CECIL HARPER, 
1134 Arch Street, Philadelphia. 

pRRYljILLMAN AC4DEMY, 

WIIiUES.BARRE, PA. 

One of the best fitting schools in the country. Every 
graduate who went to college last year entered without 
condition. No boy will be received without the best ref- 
erences. As the limit of capacity it nearly reached, 
early application should be made. 

EDWIN L. SCOTT, A.M., Ph.D., Pri«cipal. 

MOKETALrFEMMTElEiNARI^ 

MEDIA, DELAWARE CO., PA. 

This school, standing firmly on iu well-cnrn«d reputa- 
tion, under the same Principal for thiity-threc years, 
commences its Fall Session Scptpmbcr 19111. 

M. L. EASTMAN, Priacipal. 



poughkeepsle (N. Y.) Military Institute. 

All ;njc». College, Husinens, West Point. Name 
this publicailon. Illustrated Catalogue. 
C. B. WARRING, Ph.D., Principal. 

art. .lubMrn TnMtttut*'. KitAbliahad JRM 

Family Hoho..| for Voufik L»(Um llUtory and Klt«ratar« 
a sp^solalty. Caruful llumn TraluliiK and Hoolal Cultnr*. 
Mnilo aud Art. AdvantaKoa of CliioluuatI mad* avalUbU to 
papHs. Kuropoan Va«atiou uartioa. 

Address U. TIlANk^ MILLER. Cii«oim«4ti, Obio. 




Tha BnvaniSrhnnt — Aboardmg school of the highest 
I no aryanrOUnOOf. ,,,^38 for boys; Preparatory to 
College, University, the Government Academies, or Busi- 
ness; Primary, Intermediate, and Academic Departments; 
thorough Military Organization and Discipline, with Syste- 
matic Physical Training. School property beautifully situ- 
ated on salt water and representing an outlay of over S250,00(); 
one of the finest in the United States, in proximity to country- 
seat of the late William Cullen Bryant. Lieut, F. A, Cook, 
late 4th Cav. U.S.A. (West Point), Commandant of Cadets. 
For catalogue, apply to 

GEORGE BRUCE CORTELYOU, Principal, 
New York, Roslyn, Long Island. 



Washington, D.C, 1916 3Sth Street. 

** Xlie Cedars.** A Boarding and Day School 
for Young Ladies. Special Course in Literature. Large 
Grounds and Buildings, Address MISS EARLE. 



Ohio, Cleveland, loao Prospect Street, 
Miss Mittleberger and Miss Blakemore's 
SCHOOL FOR GIRLS. 

Fall Term begins September 27, 1888, 



NORWAI.K, CONN. 

NOEWALK MILITARY INSTITUTE. 

Thorough teaching. Careful training. Moderate charges. 
Superior building. Gymnasium. Bowling alleys. Boat- 
house. F. S. ROBERTS, Principal. 



*1 00 Domestic Type- Writer. Sold ist yr. j,ooo 
01« at Is ; 3d, 35,000 at ia. Now at $1 sales are im- 
mense. Catalogue, Sample Work, and Testimonials 
free. H. S. INGERSOLL, 46 Cortlandt St., N. Y. 



TYPE- WRITER ^°.'ir~<!h'2r;; 

Practical, and Durable, ao to %o words a miaute can be 
written. OBO. R. BLAK£lY, Bradford, Molean Oo.,Pa. 



SHORTHAND. 



Private Instruction by 

practical verbatim re- 

cperieoce. No failures. Situations 

earanteed, 'Book and Circulars Free. FRANK H AR- 
ISON, Stenographer, 721 Broad Street, Newark, N.J. 



A NEW MONTHLY FOR HOME AND SCHOOL, THE 

KINDERGARTEN. 

12.00 ft 7IW. ALIOB B. fiXOCEBAU * 00., OMo&co. XU. 

BELLUUTH LADIES' COLLEEE, ''Si^\A'^'- 

Has ftui equals and m> superior m AmerirM. 
IIlg:heHt CHlture, Art, Muaio, I.lteristiir*, Klo- 
outlon. Climate excoption^lly healthy. L\4t moder> 
ate. For circular, address Rst. B. N. INOLISH, H.i., PriaMpal. 



Norwood Institute, 

1407 Maasachusetta Avenue and 

laia and 1214 Fourteenth Street 
(Three coiiunodious Ci>iinccting houses), 
1%'amhinaton, D.C. 

A Select Bourding lutd l>.iy School for Young Ladies 
and Little OirU. jjr. «n,l Mrs. VIlllAM I>. f ^BELU PriBoipals. 

S"HORTHAND?,''Sia?3TSSfia!j: 
IfllUlloilN 1 
uiiil fur cirou 



I n#%l«fc^by immII or iisnionall/. 



LIPPINCOTT 8 MONTHLY MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 



BEST STORIES BY POPULAR AUTHORS. 



]-(ippincott's Series of Select Jlovels, 

IGrao. Paper Cover. 35 Cts. 



ROSA N 

BARBARA HEATHCOTE'S TRIAL. 
QUEENIE'S WHIM. 
NELLIE'S MEMORIES. 
FOR LILIAS. 
NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS. 



CAREY. 

ROBERT ORD'S ATONEMENT. 
WOOED AND MARRIED. 
UNCLE MAX. 
WEE WIFIE. 

ONLY THE GOVERNESS. 



JUNE. 

I HAVE LIVED AND LOVED. 
MY LORD AND MY LADY. 
ROY AND VIOLA. 
DOLORES 



MRS. FORRESTER. 

DIANA CAREW. 



VIVA. 



RHONA. 

MIGNON, 

ONCE AGAIN. 



THE "DUCHESS.' 



FAITH AND UNFAITH. 

DORIS. 

ROSSMOYNE. 

BEAUTY'S DAUGHTERS. 

AIRY FAIRY LILIAN. 

PORTIA. 

MOLLY BAWN. 

LOYS, LORD BERRESFORD. 

MRS. GEOFFREY. 

MARVEL. 

" O TENDER DOLORES." 



A MAIDEN ALL FORLORN. 
PHYLLIS. 
IN DURANCE VILE. 
LADY BRANKSMERE. 
A MENTAL STRUGGLE. 
LADY VAL WORTH'S DIAMONDS, 
A MODERN CIRClfe. 
THE DUCHESS. 

THE HONOURABLE MRS. VER- 
EKER. 



MRS. H. LOVETT CAMERON. 

IN A GRASS COUNTRY. I PURE GOLD. 

VERA NEVILL. I WORTH WINNING, 

A LIFE'S MISTAKE. 



COURT ROYAL. 



S. BARING-GOULD. 

THE GAVEROCKS. 



RICHARD CABLE, 



DAPHNE. "Rita." 

TOO CURIOUS. Edward J. Goodman. 
A FALLEN IDOL. F. Anstey. 

TRUE LOVE. Lady Di Beauclerk. 

SUNSHINE IN THE SHADY PLACE. Edith Milner. 
DOCTOR CUPID. Rhoda Bronghton. 

THAT OTHER PERSON. Mrs. Alfred Hunt. 

GEOFFREY STIRLING. Mrs. Leith Adams. 
MOLOCH. Mrs, Campbell Praed. 



ALSO BOUND IN HALF CLOTH, FIFTY CKNTS. 



*»• For sale by all Booksellers, or will be sent by mail, postage prepaid, on receipt of the price by 

J. B. UPPINOOn COMPANY. Publishers, 715 and 717 Market St. Phila. 

18 



LIPPINCOTrS MONTHLY MAGAZINE ADVERTISER, 





IN THE WORLD, ^t 

iSSEWORLEANS 



TbeBe glnes are used in the Smithsonian Institute at 'Washington, 
for all its works of mounting speoimens, by the Government Arse- 
nals and Department buildings, by the Pullman Palace Car Co., 
MasoB A Hamlin Organ and Piano Co., and by thousands of first- 
olasi manufacturers and mechanics throughout the world, for all 
kinds of fine work. Pronounced the STRONGEST ADHE- 
SIVE KNOWN. No other glues haw the record of imipounda 
to the aquara inch. The total quantity sold between January 1880 and 
1887, in all parts of the world, amounted to over Forty-seven 
Million bottles. No short measure, no acid, no humbug in Gen« 
nine Le Pace's Glues. Remember that they are unequalled 
for repairing all kinds of Furniture, Glass, China, Ivory, 
Books, Lieather, Musical Instruments, Statuary, 
etc., etc. 

To avoid the public being deoelved by the many glues flooding the 
market, some with high-sounding names, others imitating our adfrer- 
tisemente, trade-marks, and name as near as they dare, we have 
eommenoed putting the autograph below on all the dennino LePage's 
Glms. 

Sample by mail, 20 oents (stamps). Mention this journal. 

GLOUCESTER, MASS. 



No Acid in ItePage's Glues. 




Oar UteKt style Patent Can exoladei air. Safe 
for the pocket. Patent Wiper. Brush adjustable 
to amonntof Glue in the Can. 




Humphrey' 
Institute, Philadelphia, Pa. 



a 



^Humphrey's Manual of Typewrit- 
ji^ing. Business Letter- Writer, and 
' 1 Exercises for Phonographic Prac- 
fjtice. Price. Ji. 50; post-paid, $1.60. 
Humphrey s Interlinear Phono- 
graphic Lessons for Self-Instruc- 
tion; six months' course, $25. In- 
terlinear Short-Hand Text-Book, 
$2. Enclose stamp for pamphlet 
and specimen pages, 
honographic and . Typewrriting 



STAMMERING" 

AlTD ALL DEFECTS OF 8FESCB FSBMAKENTL7 CUBED. 
Rev. Chas. E. Robinson, D.D., Scranton, Pa., writes: 
" I have purposely delayed writing you about the results 
in my son's case in order to judge of them by the tests of 
time and trying circumstances. Weeks have passed, and 
as he has not stamuiered once, we consider his cure 
complete, and regard it as something wonderful. I com- 
mend your system as thoroughly scientific." Send for 
54-pagc pamphlet to E. S. Johnson, ixth and Spring 
Garden Streets, Philadelphia, Pa. 



HOMCEOPATHY. futtvSntrS 

dies. Family Medicine Cases, etc., of strictly reliable 
quality, at oldest Homoeopathic Pharmacy. Establiihtd 
in jSjS- Price-Lists mailed free. Mail orders promptly 
filled. liOKllICKK & TAFKI., 

1011 Arch St., Philadelphia, Pa. 



ij5 Grand Street, New York 

838 N. Howard Street, Baltimore, Md. 



50 East Madison Street, Cor. Wabash Ave., Chicago. 
027 Smithfield Street, Pittsburgh. Pa. 



938 F Street, N. W.. vi'iishingion.'D. C. 



THE LEADING "ENGLISH SPARROW" GUN. 



^e^^/^O 




Send 2c. Stamp for DeecRiPTivE Ciroulars. By express, in 

A WOODEN BOX PREPAID ANYWHERE IN U.S. WITH 125 PROJEC- 
TILES. $2.00. Engle Spring Gun Co .hazleton, pa. 



DRUNKARD 

There is no happiness either for you or your family, 
your wife or your children, while you continue spending 
money for rum. Make a change at once for the better. 
Get one bottle of 

PFEIL'8 ANTIDOTE 
for alcoholism, costing but a dollar, and in lest than a 
week you will have done with liquor forever. Sold by 
all druggists and at office. 

No. 155 North Heoond St.. FhilHdelphiA, P». 
Send for circular. Shipped to all parts of^the world. 



WHOOPING COUGH. 

40 years' test of Delavnu's Kouio«ly proves its 

merit. Quickly dispeU the whooiiiuj;, j;ic.aly ulluys and 
lessens severe paroxysms of cougning, — cutting short the 
disease. Its peculiar unti-spntuioilic nctioti insures 
sleep, and is absolutely harmlc»« in effect. When phy- 
sicians' or domestic treatment fail, you can rely on 
" DELAVAU'S." 50o. a bottle. Sold by druggist*. 

Depot, Otii and Wood 8U., ritiUdelitUIn, Vu, 



# 



WRIGLEY'S SOAP 



FOR a 

A Sllvor-Platod Teaspoon. 
GROCERS SELL IT. 



FOR la voFi ao 

A Sil7er-Fl&t6d Sus&r-SholL A SilTer-Flated Bntte>Enlik 

THE WRIGLEY MFG. CO.. Phlladelphl., Pa. 

11) 



LIPPING OTTS MONTHLY MAGAZINE ADVERTISER, 



1 



400,000 SUBSCRIBERS ALREADY! 

WHY NOT MAKE IT A MILLION ! 
TO INTRODUCE IT INTO A MILLION FAMILIES WE OFFER 

THE PHILADELPHIA 

LADIES' HOME JOURNAL 

AND PRACTICAL HOUSEKEEPER 

FROM NOW to JANUARY, 1889 

p„„ Mo„... ONLY 10 CENTS ^ " 



or 

balance of this year, on receipt of ^^M^— * B MB Z^Si^^^H Stamps. 



We have engaged for the coming season the most popular and //W^^"^^* ^"^ TCiOSX. COStly illustrations by 

best known Writers in America to write Expressly for our Mmlil^Sib^^^ ^^^* Artists in the country. 

Columns, originally copyrighted matter. 

Elizabeth Stuart Phelps, 
Josiah Allen's Wife, 
Mary J. Holmes, 
Marion Harland, 
Rose Terry Cooke, 
Will Carleton, 
Robert J. Burdette, 
Dr. Wm. A. Hammond, 
Christine Terhune Herrick, 
Florine Thayer McCray, 
Kate Upson Clarke, 
Eliza R. Parker, 
Mrs. John Sherwood. 

Artistic Needlework— Finely Illustrated, Everything 
new and original. Edited by an expert. Patterns guaran- 
teed correct and reliable and so clearly explained and illus- 
trated that a novice would have nodifficulty in workingthem. 

Interior Decorations — By Mrs. A. R. Ramsey. Pro 
fusely Illustrated. New Ideas and Original Designs. 

New Fashions — By Mrs. James H. Lambert. 

Hints on Home Dressmaking— By Emma M. Hoopbr. 

Breakfast and Dinner Parties— Home Cooking, Dainties and 
Desserts. Teas, Suppers, Luncheons, and Receptions. Gives ex- 
plicitly all the little details women want to know. Tells how to en- 
tertain guests, how to serve refreshments, what to have, and how to make it. 

Instructive articles on "Ho^v to Appear Well in Society." 

" How to Talk Well and Improve Your Grammar. 

How Women Can Make Money — By Ella Rodman Church. 

Talks With Mothers— By eminent physicians. 

Handsomely printed on fine paper and profusely illustrated. 
Greatly ENLARGED and IMPROVED. 20 Pages. 

CURTIS PUBLISHING CO.. PHILADELPHIA. PA. 

20 




LTPPINCOTT'S MONTBLT MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 




CAMPAI&H EAQLB NOVELTY. 

The Greatest CampaifirnilVo'velt.y ever offered 

tofhe public. This Badge is made of solid metal, and fln- 
isused in the best manner, heavily Ooid I'lated, and 
will wear long after the next President is elected. It is 
made in the shape of a perfect eat^Ie: it makes a very 
haudsuine pln and when you wish to show your f«- 
vorlte candidate pull the ta-isel, the eagle will 
flap his wings and show the correct picture of Pres- 
ident and Vice President, (now you see it now you don't) 
wliich was hidden under his wings. Mention which you 
want, Republican or Democrat, Harrison & 
TUorton or Cleveland <fc Thurman. This Pin 
Badfre will sell at 25c. but anyone that will act aa our agent 
wewiU send a sample by mall, postpaid, for 15cts. 1 doa 
postpaid. $1,35, 1 Gross by express, S13.00. Cat- 
alogue of all Campaign Qoods and Novelties Freo. 

E. 9 ASON & CO., M'fr Oampaiga Goods. Ill Nassan Street, New York. 





BICYCLES, TRICYCLES, AND VELOCIPEDES. 

STRONG & GREEN, 

64 N. Fifth St., Philadelphia, 

AGENTS FOR THB 

STAR BICYCI^BS 

SEND FOR CATALOGUE. 




JHE American CYCLES 

Descriptive Catalogue 
ON Application. 

JjORMULLY&JEFEERY 

=«-MFG.CO,=i^ 
Chicago, III. 

ST Manufacturers iNAMERicA 

Bicycles ani Tricycles 

for Gentlemen, I^adies, Boys, and 
Misses. 20 SIFFEBXHT CT7LS3 in 
High- and Low-Priccd Wheels. 'Be- 
fore you purohase see our large 
Illii<(truted Price-List. Sent on re- 
ceipt of stamp. 

The John WllklnEOn Co., 65 8tat« Street, Chicago. 111. 






DO YOU WANT A DOG 



DOG BUYERS' GUIDE. 

lOolcred plates, lOO engravings | 
of different breeds, prices they are 
[worth, and where to buy then 
Mailed for 15 Cents. 
ASSOCIATED FANCIERS, 
1287 S. Eighth St. Philadelphia, Fa. 




AMPAIGN GOODS 

Our new CATA.r.O©TJJE OF CAM* 

PAIOar OUTFITS, with constitution. 

drill tactics and full information about 

organizing and drilling Marching Clubs. 

Illustrated Catalogue FREE. 

k. G. SPALDING & BROS., 

108 MadlHon St., ) 241 Ilrondwny. 

cHicAoo. s jihiw xokk; 




SUPERFLUOUS HAIR 

on the female face, on the arms, bre.-uit, 
neck, forehead, between the eyebrows, 
on men's faces above the beard line, 
destroyed forever without pain, scar, 
shock, or trice, by the Electric Needle 
Opcr.ition by I>r. J. VAN 1>Y0K, 40 North 1 1th 
Street, Fhiludelphia. Hours, 9 to 4. Never fails. 
Hook free. 

P ARLOW'S INPICO~BmE, 

^^Its merit* as a WAPH BLU K h«»o boon t\\\\y itH*4 %nt 
aadori«d hy thoiiMtn>t« of houii<*k(>pp«ni. Ymir croocr ought 
to haT* it on mI*. Auk him for it. 1) 8. WlLTBKUaER, 
Proprietor, 2U North 8euou<l Rtroot. Pblladotplila. Pa. 

I N OF FICE BUILDING S, 

I with V. S. Mail Chutes, (pat'd), 
I and the I'. S. jYtc coil r<'t Ion ser- 
I vice, tenants mail letters without 
M going down stairs. Write for par- 
^^ ticulars, The Cutler M/y. Co.. 
^ Itochcstci'f y,X,, Sole Makers. 



21 



LIPPmCOTrS MONTHLY MAGALINE ADVEBTTSiER. 



TRUST A ND SAFE DEPOSIT C OMPAWY, 

THE PENNSYLVANIA COMPANY 

FOR INSURANCES ON LIVES AND 
GRANTING ANNUITIES, 

No. 431 Ohestimt Street. 

INOORPORATEO MAROH 10, 1812. 
CHARTER PERPETUAL. 

CAPITAL - - - $2,000,000 
SURPLUS - - - 1,700,000 



INTEREST ALLOWED ON HONEY DEPOSITS. 

SAFES IN ITS BURGLAR-PROOF VAULTS 
POR RENT. 

The protection of ita Vaults for the preservation of 
WILLS offered gratuitously. 

Gold and Silver-Plate, Deeds, Mortgages, etc., receired 
for safe-keeping under guarantee. 

LINOLEY SMYTH, President. 
HENRY N. PAUL, Vice-President. 

JARVIS MASON, TRUST OFFICER. 

WM P. HENRY, Secy and Treas. 

WM. L. BROWN, Jr., AS S-T SEO'Y AND TREA8. 



LiNDLEY Smyth, 
Henry n. Paul, 
Alexander Biddle, 
Anthony J. antelo. 
Charles S. Lewis, 
Charles W. Wharton, 

Edward 8. 



Edward H. Coates, 
Peter O. Hollis, 
John R. Fell, 
William W. Justice, 
Craiqe Lippinoott, 
Georqe W. Chilos, 
Buckley. 



THE BEST CALICOES 



WM. SIMPSON & SONS, 

SILVER GRAYS AND BLACK AND WHITES 

MOURNING PRINTS. 



NOVELTIES IN 

EDDYSTOISTE 

FANCY PRINTS- 



Chartered to act as EXECUTORS, ADMINISTRATORS, 
TRUST EES,GUABDIANS,ASSIGNEES,COMMITTEES, 
RECEIVERS, AGENTS, etc.; and for the faithful perform- 
ance of all such duties all its Capital and Surplus are liable. 

ALL TRUST INVESTMENTS ARE KEPT SEPA. 
RATE AND APART FROM THE ASSETS OF THE 

COMPANY. 

INCOME COLLECTED AND REMITTED. 



BANDS OF COMFORT, manufactured by A. M. 
& L. D. Lawson, will save you many pains and aches, 
and are the best protection against colas, etc. Send for 
prices, etc., to A. M. & £. I). L.AWSON, 

1444 Broadway, N. Y. 



CURE "ill DEAF 

— Peck's Patent Improved Cttsh- 




XONXD Eak Dbums Perfectly Re- 
store the Hearing whether deaf- 
ness is caused by colda, fevers or in« 



ness IB cauueu uy uuiuo, io»cio y» •"- 
juries to the natural dmms. Invisible, 
comfortable, always in position. Mu- 
sic, conversation, ■whispers h^d dis- 
tinctly. Write t» F. filSCqX, 853 
Broadway, cor. 14th St. New York, for 
aiustratSi book of proofs FRBK 



Dobbins' ElectrlG Soap. 

THE BEST FAMILY SOAP 
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It is Strictly Pure. UiiifoiiinQnality. 

HE original formula for which we paid $50,000 
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TT washes flannels and blankets as no other soap in 
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READ THIS TWICE. 



T 



THERE is a ffreat saTinsr of time, of labor, of 
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^ and counterfeited. 

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and take no other. Nearly every grocer from Maine to 
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LADIES I write for terms. $3.00 sample cortetfree to 
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(( Thb Bbst Curb ih thb World for coughs, JJ 
c»ldt, and consumption is Cutler Bros. & Go's well- 
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18 NOT A BLOOD DISEASE, and. CANNOT be cur»a 
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appetite, 



, tbe food 

foporiy, the mucous lining of the stomach is 

chronic dyspepsia results, bringing the bad 

faint, gnawing feeling, low spirits, and all 



monly by an imperfect condition of the secretions 

ligest p . " . " 
weakened, ana chronic dyspepsia results 



banintFirty yearsMise in England and ^e in ■AIv I I U W ^Sl Cl I 1 1« b 

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no opium or merctirv. We guarantee every case, and Will rrtumthB money 'Where WB fail, eend 

ns your aadress and we will refer ron to someboay in your neighborhood who knows all about Anfi-DyB- 



Arnrrica never known a case of failure. It con- 
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peptine, or if Immediate relief Ib desired, send tl.OO for one pkge. 

22 



PRIVATE FORMULA CO., Lebanon, a 



LIPPING OTTS MONTHLY MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 



.JAIWI&raNKlIN 

Capital and Surplus, $1,140,000. 



SAM'L M. JARVIS, President. 
ROLAND R. CONKLIN, Secretary. 



Guaranteed Mortgages, Debenture Bonds, 

AND 

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239 Broadway, New Tork, 
118 West Sixth Street, Kanaaa City, Mo., 

AND 

144 South Fourth Street, Philadelphia. 



THE 

Fidelity and Casualty Company 



OF NEW YORK. 



No8. 214 and 216 Broadway, N.Y. 



Capital, 1250,000.00. Assets Jan. i. 



^43,331.32. 



Issues SURETY BONDS guaranteeing the 
fidelity of persons ia positions of trust, such as Em- 
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Issues ACCIDENT POLICIES, conUining 
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AUo PLATE GLASS AND BOILER 

POLICIES of approved forms. 



OFFICERS: 
Wii. M. Richards, President. 

Geo. F. Seward, Vice-President, 
JoHM M. Crane, SecreUry. 

Rob't J. HiLLAS, Asst. Secretary. 

DIRECTORS : 
Geo. S. Coe . . Pres. American Exchange Nat. Bank. 

J. S. T. Stranahan Pres. Atlantic Dock Co. 

A. E. Orr Of David Dows & Co. 

G. G. Williams .... Pres. Chemical National Bank. 

A. B. Hull Retired Merchant. 

H. A. Hurlbut . Pres. of Commissioners of Emigration. 
J. D.Vermilye . . . Pres. Merchants N.^tional Bunk. 

John L. Rikcr Of J. L. & D. S. Riker. 

J. G. McCuUough .... Pres. Panama Railway Co. 

T. S. Moore Of Moore, Low & Wallace. 

J. Rogers Maxwell .... Pres. Central R. R, ol N. J. 

Wm. M, Richard* President. 

Geo. F.Seward Vice-President. 



f ■""' 



USED AND RECOMMENDED by Mkis.s..nik.u. K m i.- 
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Non««K«niilri« uiiIiwh Bt^niimiUdiiANN FAnr.ti. FormiU 
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Qtnaral Agtntt tor tho U.S. 



T 



Guarantee Fund to secure Investors, 
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Conservative Management ensured by doubts 
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PHILADELPHIA DIEEOTORS : 
WM. B. BEMENT, Industrial Iron Works. 
GEO. BURNHAM, Baldwin Locomotive Works. 
GEO. PHILLER, Pres. First NaUonal Bank. 
GEO. M. TROUTMAN, Pres. Central NaUonal Bank. 
WM. McGEORGE, Jr., Counsellor at Law. 



The celebrated 6 per cent. First Mor^ages of this 
Company in amounts from ^00 to ^20,000, the principal 
and interest of which are guaranteed by the above fimd, 
for sale at par and accrued interest. Send for pamphlets. 

WM. McGEORGE. Jr., 
BuUitt Suilding, 131-143 South 4th St. 



jL.3sr 



Unprecedentedlf Low Death Rate. 

PROVIDENT 

LIFE MD TRUST COIPUT 

OF PHILADELPHIA. 



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PRINT YOUR OWN CARDSI 

Press 83.00. Oironlar Fr«M 98.00. N«ws- 
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KELBET ft 00., Heriden. Oona. 
Pljcasb Mbntion this Magaxinb. 





R. M. LAMBIE, 

ALL KINL^S OK 

BOOK 

HOLDERS 

Tmi Mo»t Prune r 

Dictionary Holder. 

Send for llluKtratcvl 
39 iMt l»th St. ir.T. 




LIPPING OTTS MONTHLY MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 



ENGRAVINGS, 




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EASELS, 

PICTURE FRAMES, Etc 



PEDESTALS. 



1^^ 



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LEADING TENITIS OUT-PITTERS, 



In shape our 
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not differ a particle from either the ^' Beek- 
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superiority, as we use Imported €rUt only, which by 
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Reiington Stailarl Typewriter. 



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mOFF, MANS & BEOICT, 327 Mw&j, N.7 



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Remington Type-writar No. 8. cinnati, Ohio ; London, England. Send for pamphlet. 




Is it worth your while to give up 

drinking COCOA -THETA during the summer 
months ? Unlike most chocolate preparations, Wil» 
bur's Cocoa-Theta is adapted to the use of every 
family all the year around. Order of your grocer.. 



JLVOI3D Ilb>d:iT^TI02JTa. 



H. O. ^V^ILBUR & SONS, 

SOLE MANUFACTURERS. 

24 



LIPPINCOTrS MONTHLY MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 



Buttonholes! 




"fAMILY" 



Buttonhole Attachment. 
Your Sewing: Machine is not com- 
plete without it. WITH IT you can 
make splendid Buttonholes m fraction 

of a minute, and more durable than hand-made. Price 
very low. Inclose stamp for full particulars, testimonials 
and samples of work. Mention this publication. Thb 
Smith & Eggk Man'fgCo., i6 E. 14th St., New York. 




THE PATENT 

SHADED SPECTACLES 

Prevents the Light from 

Falling on the Eyes. Believes 

Head Fatigue. 

' SOLD B7 SZLIABLE OFTICIAKS. 
SAEDT, OOLES & CO., Patentees, 
96 Maiden Lane, New York. 



SHORT 



HAN1> PAMPHLET AND 6 MAIL, 
lenoas, half-course, TEN CENTISt.i 
Liagle's College. 1431 Chestnut St., Phila.) 



GIANT METAL SASH CHAIN, 

MANUFACTURED BY 

THE SMITH & EGGE MF'G CO., 

Bridgeport, Connecticut, 
Is an economical substitute for cord for hanging win- 
dows. It is the only thing fit to hang plate-glass. 
Se.nA for 2>c«ri'f|»fi»'« Cntnloftno. 



TRADES 



F^a 



MXRKm 



This Label is on the Best Blbbon Made« 




A 



-•i)ForWea.kB6.ck., <>^ ' 
LASTEW'-'euma.Hsm, 

jciMico..rulmona.r/ 
^nd Kidney DiFficuIties, 
awla.ri6..Dys|3ef)sia.Liver ^.ndjj^^ 

5tome>.ch Affections, Wea.k nuscIes,Lumba.§o 
5frd.ins,5fitche5 d.nda.11 Loca.1 Pexins y®^®® 

ASK FOR ALLCOCK'S & LET NO EXPLANATION OR 
SOLICITATION INDUCE YOU TO ACCEPT A SUBSTITUTE. 



.^vWvxJS 



LIPPII^COTrS MONTHLY MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 




Ik !€ jLm\.^ Know the danger in using a poorly washed Nursing 

ly/J CyT W f^t*S bottle— it often causes death. A bottle washed with 
^ " -■- Vy L^X x V^X O Pyie's Pearline and water will be perfectly clean — cannot 
be otherwise. Not necessary to use shot, etc., etc. Ordinary servants may be trusted to 
wash the baby's bottle if you see that they use Pearline. It has no equal for washing 
children's linen. For sale by Grocers everywhere. Manufactured by JAMES PYLE, New York. 



A. W. FABER'S 




LEAD PENCILS, 

UNEQUALLCD IN 
QUALITY 

THE OLDEST AND BEST 
or ALL PENCILS. 

HOUaC FOUNOCO IN 1781. 

PEN HOLDERS 

RUBBER 

ERASERS. 

PENCIL 

SHARPENERS. 

If you cannot obtain 
these iGroods at Stationers, 
Bend 30 cts. fer samples of 
same. 

FABER'8 PATENT 
PENCIL 

COMPASSES. 

SAMPLES. 15 CTS. 




feiTiNGnum 




FOR SALE EVERYWHERE. 



LIPPINCOTT'S MONTHLY MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 



Hrtistic Mhntel Co. 

1931 MARKET STREET. 

Have the Finest and Largest 
Stock of 

Mantels y Hall Seats, 

Hall Racks, 

Panellings y 

Wainscotings. 
•f 

WE INVITE INSPECTION. 

CORRESPONDENCE SOLICITED. 

ESTIMATES CHEERFULLY 

FURNISHED. 




ESTABLISHED 1846. 



FRANKLIN 

PBIRTING mi WORKS, 

JOHN WOODRUFF'S SONS, 

iai7 and 1»1© ClxerrT Street, 

FEILADELFHIA, FA. 



This Mafcszineia printed with Jotiu WoodrnfTH Bom' Ink. 

CAMPBELL PRINTING PRESS MFQ. CO. 

MAirUFACTURBKS OF 

HIGH CLASS CUHiDER PRESSES, 



Bead for Circulars aad Catalaguas. 

I«0 William Street, New York, 

306 Dearborn Street, Chicago. 
IjIPPinoott'8 monthly 

IS rRIMTSD ON A 

CAMPBELL PRESS. 




I TheWONDERFUL 

LUBURG CHAIR 

Oombinf ng a Parlor, Library. Sni«k< 

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lounge;, BCD. ^'m g\t\ aad 

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ACHES 

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direct with the uiakere you can »ui'«t 

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y<iu. Goodn sold under a ./K.ii.oifrr ' 

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IK8IDB TlIB UOUBB. 

HtAPB PATENT EAH'TH CLOSET 00b 
Musksfou. Atioli. 





LIPPING OTrS MONTHLY MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 

• — — — - — ■ — - — ■ ■ » 

A Complete American Novel in every Number. 

LIPPINCOTT'S 
MONTHLY MAGAZINE. 

•m PRICE, 25 CENTS l-t^ 

The cofnplete novels whicJi have already appeared are: 

No. 250— "aUEEN OF SPADES," and Autobiogrraphy. By E. P. Roe. 
No. 249— '* HEROD AND MARIAMNE." A Tragedy. By Amelie Rives. 
No. 248— '* MAMMON." By Maud Howe. 
No. 247— "THE YELLOW SNAKE." By Wm. Henry Bishop. 
No. 246— "BEAUTIFUL MRS. THORNDYKE." By Mrs. Poultney Bigelow. 
No. 245— "THE OLD ADAM." By H. H. Boyesen. 
No. 244— ** THE aUICK OR THE DEAD ?" By Amelie Rives. 
No. 243— '^ HONORED IN THE BREACH." By Julia Magruder. 
No. 242— "THE SPELL OF HOME." After the German of E. Werner. By Mrs. 
A. L. Wister. 

No. 241— "CHECK AND COUNTER-CHECK." By Brander Matthews and George 
H. Jessop. 

No. 240—" FROM THE RANKS." By Captain Charles King, U.S.A. 

No. 239— "THE TERRA-COTTA BUST." By Virginia W. Johnson. 

No. 238— "APPLE SEED AND BRIER THORN." By Louise Stockton. 

No. 237— "THE RED MOUNTAIN MINES." By Lew Vanderpoole. 

No. 236-" A LAND OF LOVE." By Sidney Luska. 

No. 235— "AT ANCHOR." By Miss Julia Magruder. 

No. '234— "THE WHISTLING BUOY." By Charles Barnard. 

No. 233— "THE DESERTER." By Captain Charles King, U.S.A. 

No. 232— "DOUGLAS DUANE." By Edgar Fawcett. 

No. 231— "KENYON'S WIFE." By Lucy C. LiUie. 

No. 230— "A SELF-MADE MAN." By M. G. McClelland. 

Nor 229—" SINFIRE." By Julian Hawthorne. 

No. 228— "MISS DEFARGE." By Frances Hodgson Burnett. 

No. 227— "BRUETON'S BAYOU." By John Habberton. 

BACK NUMBERS ALWAYS ON HAND. 



28 



LIPPINCOTTS MONTHLY MAGAZINE ADVERTISER, 



GOOD STEAM HEATING 

SAVES YOUR HEALTH. 




Simplest in Con- 
struction. 

Largest Steaming 
Capacity. 

Greatest Economy 
in Fuel. 



NO ENGINEER 

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PURMAN 

■ STEAM 

H EATER 




MANUFACTURERS UNDER 

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WANTED 

** EVERYWHERE 



Send for new Illus- 
trated Catalogue and 
References. 



DUPLEX Steam Heater Co. 

No. 10 Barclay St., New York. 



> 



TIDN'T BUY : 

■*-' A .PHOTO • OUTFIT 

UNTIL. . you HEAR FROM US. 
CATALOGUES MAILE!"^: TREI 
DRAUGHTSMEMS' r^ n 



..„?• Blueprints. 



)sHM' 

V ARCH : 



WANTED— All Foundrymcn to send for Kcim's 
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the best one out and a great labor-saver. Mining men 
should send for a catalogue of Smelting Machinery and 
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ft. Address Harlsfeld Farnacfl Co., Limited, Box 459, Cincinnati, 0. 



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Is guaranteed to famish more heat per lb. 
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'SOFT COAL. Send for full illustrated 

Catalogue. Address 

H£li£iND£EN MFG. CO., GENEVA, JT.T. 



fWARDRQBE HOOKS 

One B<»alK \ ^m rUte, 




rutah 

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desired u-tide c&s b« rrmoved urithant Ukmg off 
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UIIM 



Barnes' PatentFootPower Machinery 

Workers of Wood or Metal 

without steam power, by using outfits of these 
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BUY THE WRINGER ^"'^^ 




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MUSIC, 
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■radforon*. ItwHIfltlyon with Mtnnl«hnicnti»nd <l<>llt;»i» It >.„ w»iit li (lont Ct> D •oiui »'J.A«» » li 



3 

iSE^^^^'WORLD M'F'G CO. i22 Massau Street, New Yori 



li'j 



LIPPING OTrS MONTHLY MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 

SEASONABLE BOOKa 



FROM 18 TO 20. 

By Elizabeth Jaudon Sellers. A new society novel of more than ordinary 
interest. i2mo. Attractive cloth binding. $i.oo. 

" The love-story of the book, indeed, is managed with no little skill, while the more serious 
scenes are written with an excellent appreciation of the finer humanities. The work altogether 
is one that will address itself to the cordial likings of a multitude of readers." — Philadelphia 
Evening Telegraph. 

" A vivacious novel. As a picture of the feelings and experiences of a girl just entering 
society it is an animated and interesting book." — Baltimore News. 

" A spirited, realistic love-story." — Brooklyn Eagle. 

** A very brightly told story of the * coming out' and love experiences of a girl after having 
* finished' her schooling. The heroine tells her own story with delightful candor, which is to a 
very large degree that of the average pretty dibutante. How many young ladies and matrons 
up to fourscore years will smile over the pleasantest reminiscences that this quotation from the 
opening chapter will bring up." 

BRUETON'S BAYOU AND MISS DEFARGE. 

By John Habberton, author of *' Helen's Babies," and Frances Hodgson 

Burnett, author of "That Lass o' Lowrie's." Complete in One Volume. 

Square i2mo. Extra cloth. $i.oo. Paper. 50 cents. 

" A good book to put in the satchel for a railway trip or ocean voyage." — Chicago Current. 

"In every way worthy of the best of our American story- writers." — Washington Public 

Opinion, 

THE DESERTER and FROM THE RANKS. 

By. Capt. Charles King, author of **The Colonel's Daughter," "Marion's 
Faith," etc. Square i2mo. Cloth, ^i.oo. Paper. 50 cents. 
" It is a relief, indeed, to turn from the dismal introspection of much of our modem fiction 
to the fresh naturalness of such stories as these." — New York Critic. 

A BLIND LEAD: 

THE STORY OF A MINE. 

By Josephine W. Bates. i2mo. 'Extra cloth. $1.25. 

" A good story, told with simplicity and force." — New York Independent. 

" Well repays the reader for time spent upon it." — New York School yournal. 

PLEASANT WATERS: 

A STORY OF SOUTHERN LIFE AND CHARACTER. 

By Graham Claytor. i2mo. Extra cloth, ^i.oo. 

" Very readable indeed. We laid the book down with the feeling that the author had done 
his work well." — New York Herald. 

" The story is a quiet one, well told, and interesting." — New York Times. 

THE ANIMAL LIFE OF OUR SEA-SHORE. 

With Special Reference to the New Jersey Coast and the Southern Shore of 
Long Island. By Angelo Heilprin, Professor of Invertebrate Paleontology 
at the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia; author of *'Town 
Geology," "Lesson of the Philadelphia Rocks," etc. Fully Illustrated. 
i2mo. Cloth. $1.25. Paper. 50 cents. 
" A hand-book that will certainly prove extremely interesting to all during their summer 

vacations. It may be relied upon as being thoroughly accurate, and tells just what you want to 

know." — New York Science. 

If not obtainable at your Bookaeller'a, aend direct to the Publiahers, who will forward the 
booka, post-paid, on receipt of the price. 

J, B. I.IPPINCOTT CO]W[PANY, Publisliers, 

715 and 717 Market Street, Philadelphia. 
80 



Lippmcorrs monthly magazine advertiser. 




HAVE YOU CATARRH? 

ARE YOU GOING INTO CONSUMPTION? 
Do Vou Have Asttima? 

By means of the Pillow- 
Inhaler, sufferers in every 
I part of the land have been 
■ cured of the above diseases, 
and many who were for years 
I afflicted are now strong and 
:well. The Pillow-Inhaler 
'^^^^^^-^ is apparently only a pillow, 
_TwuE^^^-;^;^^-c>. |jm f^Q^ liquid medicines that 
are harmless (tar, carbolic acid, iodine, etc. ) it gives off an 
atmosphere which you breathe ail nirht (or about eight 
hours), whilst taking ordinary rest in sleep. There are no 
pipes or tubes, as the medicine is contained in concealed 
reservoirs, and the healing atmosphere arising from 
it envelops the head. It is perfectly simple in its work- 
ings, and can be used by a child with absolirte safety. 
Medicine for the reservoirs goes with each Inhaler, 
ready for use. The wonderful and simple power of the 
Pillow-Inhaler is in the long-continued application. 
You breathe the healing va- 
por continuously and at a 
time when ordinarily the 
cavities of the nose anci bron- 
chial tubes become engorged 
with mucus, and catarrh, 
throat and lung diseases make 
greatest progress. From the 
very first night the passages 
are clearer and the inflammation is less. The cure is 
sure and reasonably rapid. 

Rbv. Dk. J. T. DuRY«A, or Boston, writes : " I really think th« 
Pillow-Inhaler is a very great hit, and the man who made it 
deserves the gratitude of all sufferers. 1 never slept more soundly, 
and my voice is better since using it." 

PnoF. Arthur F. Winslow, A. B., of the English and Classical 
School at West Newton, Mass., says : *' I believe the Pillow- 
Ihhaleb is in every way what it professes to be as a cure for 
Catarrh. I have tried it with entire success in my own case." 

Wm. C. Carter, H. D., Richmond, Va., a physician in regular 
practice, says: "I believe the Pillow-Inhaler to be the best 
thing for the relief and cure of Lung Troubles that I have ever 
■«cn or heard of." # 

Mb. R. D. McManioal, of the Arm of McManigal ft Morley, 

Miners and Shippers, Logan, Ohio, writes: "I suffered fifteen 

years with Catarrh of the throat. I bought a Pillow-Inhalk, 

and after four months' use of it my throat is entirely cured." 

Send/or Descriptive Pamphlet and Testimonials. 

THE PILLOW-INHALER CO., 

1520 Chestnut St., Philadelphia, Pa. 



CATARRH. % 

BRONCHITIS. 

CONSUMPTION. 



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Water In Cases of one dozen half gallon bottles, tO per case, at tho Springs* 
THOB. F. GOODK, Proprietor, BUFFALO lilTlll.V SPRINGS, VA 




.11 



LIPFINCOTrS MONTHLY MAGAZINE ADVERTISER, 



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EPPS'S 

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Advice Free HOW TO REDUCE WEIGH TlbM^rma- 
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FURNITURE 



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EMERSON 



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stronger, lighter, than any other. 
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QALLERY, HUNTINQ AND TARGET RIFLES. 

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MARLIN riRE ARMS CO.. Box 20 B, HEW HAVEH, CT 




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52-in., Otto factory price, $60.00, our price, 1^40.00. 
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OPIUM 



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DIXON'S AMERICAN GRAPHITE 

Pencils are unequalled for smooth, tough leads. If your 
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Giving requirements, course of study, physical train- 
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W. T. COMSTOCK, 23 Warren St., New York. 



32 



LIPPINCOTrS MONTHLY MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 



10,000 AGENTS WANTED to dupply FIFTY MILLION PEOPLE with 
THE LIFE OF "^ ' I By the author of 

BENHARRISON I ben hur. 

Gen. Leic Wallace,the eminent Author, Statesman, Diplomat, and lAfe-Umq friend of Gen. Harrison, is writing 
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Quaker Chill Cake. 

Philadelphia's Great Antl-Malarial Remedy. 

, Quaker Chill Cako has produced 
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does not aontaia one particle of 
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liver, kidneys, and bowels (henco 
upon the blood), thorouglily cleans- 
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the system to a healthy condition. 

Mr. Van Camp Bush, 4109 Walnut Street, Philadelphia, 
says : "Members of mv family have used Quaker Chill Cakes 
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and others two or three boforo tho malarial symptoms wero 
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lire easily taken and with no unpleasant effects whatsoever, 
as is tho case from other remedies generally prescribed for 
Chills and Malaria." 

Mr. C.W. Zeiber, Bookseller and Stationer.Thlrd and Walnu t 
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ment of distress." 

Mr. A. J. Lejambre, 927 Pine fit., Philadelphia, says : "After 
suffering for two weeks with Chills and Fever, Quaker Chill 
Cake cured mo entirely. 1 havehad noreuurrenceof thedisoase." 

Mr. Wm. J. fihcdwiok. .3404 Wallace St., Philadelphia, writes, 
underdateof Nov. J4, 1887: "I fully endorse tho Quaker Chill 
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Price One Dollar a Cake, or SiK for Five Dollars. If your 
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LIPPING OTTS MONTHLY MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 




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WEBSTER 

yOiGTIONAfiyg' ITSELF 



3000 more Words and nearly 2000 more Illus- 
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FOR THE HAIR. 

The Oldest a nd the Best in the World. 

Fastens the hair where it h.is a tendency to fall out, re- I 
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84 



giving hriei farts concerning 9,700 Noted Fer- 
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A Gazetteer of the World 

locating and dpsoriV)inj5 2r.,000 Places; and a Vo- 
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Sold by all Booksellers. Pamphlet free. 

G.& G. MERRIAM & CO., Pub'rs, Springfield, Mats. 



i 



LIPPINCOTTS MONTHLY MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 



WORCESTER'S DICTIONARY. 

THE STAISP ARD. 

fl%e largest and moat complete. Quarto Dictionary of the English, Umgaagef 

2120 pages. Contains thousands of words not to be found 

in any other Quarto Dictionary, 




WITH OR WITHOUT DENISON'S PATENT INDEX. 

^\P^PU ^\^lP a PLl^^ An 'inspection of the literary productions of this 
^^"^ * n ^ ^ ^^ "^ ^^ "^ ■■ » ■ country will show that in the standard works, the 
magazines, the daily papers, the spelling is based upon Worcester as the Standard. The 
truth of this statement is proved by the following quotations from the field of standard and cur- 
rent literature. The words ia italics are those wherein the dictionaries differ, and are spelled 
according to Worcester. 

THE FIELD OF STANDARD LITERATURE. 
Every edition of Longfellow, Emerson, Holmes, Bryant, Lowell, "Whittier, Hawthorne, 
Cooper, Irving, and other eminent American authors, follows Worcester. " It presents the usage 
of all great English writers of the country." 



EMERSON'S POEMS. Riverside Edition. Pub- 
lished by Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 
Page 31a. 
"A form which Nature cast in a heroic mould 
Of them who rescued liberty of old." 
Page 313. 
" The little Shakespeare in the maiden's heart 
Makes Romeo of a Plough-boy on his cart." 
EMERSON'S LETTERS AND SOCIAL AIMS. 

Published by Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 
Page 278. 
"Words used in a new sense and figuratively, dart a 
delightful lustre." 
Page 44. 
" Poetry begins, or all becomes poetry, when we look 
from the centre outward, and are using all as if 
the mind made it." 
Page 32. 

" Fancy is a tvilfUlf imagination a spontaneous act." 
LONGFELLOW'S POEMS, Household Edition. 

Published by Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 
Page p. 
" The vine still clings to the motildering wall. 
But at every gust the dead leaves fall." 
Page 40. 
"A traveller, by the faithful hound, 
Half buried in the snow was found." 



Page 123. 
"Ah, how gJeUful grows the hand 
That obeyeth Love's command !" 

HOLLAND'S "BITTER SWEET." A Poem. 

Published by Charles Scribncr's Sons. 
Page 39. 
" No risen Lord could eat the feast of love 
Here on the earth, or yonder in the sky, 
Had He not lain within the sepulchre," 

HOLMES'S POEMS. Riverside Edition. Published 

by Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 
Page 26. 
" Both blessed with hopes, which revelled bright an<l 
free. 
On all we longed, or all we dreamed to be." 
Page 162. 
"Along its front no sabres shine, 
No biood-red pennons wave." 



BRYANT'S POEMS. Household Edition. 

lished by D. Appleton & Co. 
Page 73. THE MURDERED TRAVELLER. 
When Spring to woods and wastes around 

j;lit bloom and joy aca' 
Tlic murdered trnvrll rr*9 0oi\cs were found 



Pub- 



Hrought bloom and joy again, 
ic murdered trnvt<lirr*9 0oi\e 
Far down a narrow glen." 

THE FIELD OF CURRENT LITERATURE. 

Many publishing houses, which for a time adopted its rival, have now j^one over to Worcester. 
The same is true of the leading magazines and newspapers. The //tirfier's A/iii^'otinr, H'eeily, 
New York Tribune, Herald, Times, World, Tost, Sun, /nde/>ent/ent, A'lttion : tlu* Ju>ston Ath'er- 
tisery Transcript, J/crald, Globe ; Philadelphia Led^ier, anil other loading papers all over tlic 
country now use tlu; word-fcums presented |jy Worcester. 

From the New York World. — "The oflTice of a dictionary is, of coui^e, not to make inno- 
vations, but simply to register the best usage in spelling ami pmnunciatiDn. This Worcester 
does, and tliis its rival conspicuously fails to ilo." 



"WRITE FOR NBW DESCRIPTIVK CIRCULAR. 



FOR MALI'. IIY AI.I. H00KSIC1.I.I:K.S. 

J. B, LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, Publishors, 

715 auil 717 Market St., PhiUtUlphii 

86 



LIPPINCOTTS MONTHLY MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 

^ EDUCATIONAL PUBLICATIONS, ^Vyy 
Lippincott^s Popular Series of Readers. 

Prepared by the well-known educator and author, Marcius Willson. He has 
constructed the series on the principle that reading books should combine the 
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I. The Very Easy Gradation. VI. The Narrative Plan. 

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Sixth Reader (for advanced classes), $1.00. 

Lippincott^s Popular Spelling- Book. 

Prepared to accompany their well-known Popular Series op Readers. 12mo. 
160 pages. Bound in boards. 20 cents. 

Sanford^s Series of Analytical Arithmetics. 

The Science of Numbers Reduced to Its Last Analysis. Mental and Written 
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P. Sanford, A.m., Prof, of Mathematics in Mercer University, Georgia. 

SAN FORD'S FIRST LESSONS IN ANALYTICAL ARITHMETIC. 

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36 cents. 

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12mo. 373 pages. Half roan. 64 cents. 

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MRS. WISTER'S TRANSLATIOirS. 



J-XJST 



Picked Up in the Streets. 

A ROMANCE. 

12mo. Extra Clotli. Prioe, $1.25. 



•' Mrs. Wister's expert hand and adaptive gifts have made this translation an interesting story for 
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"This beautiful romance will find many readers. Mrs. Wister never translates an unworthy 
novel. She gives us the best of German fiction, and this story of Schobert's is a genuinely good one." 
— New Orleans Picayune. 

" Mrs. Wister possesses to a remarkable degree the talent, somewhat rare among translators, of 
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of a novel as a good background is to a painting. Her translation of ' Picked Up in the Streets' is a 
decided illustration of this happy faculty. In reading this interesting story one seems actually to be 
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feithfully are they drawn. It is &n enjoyable story, and is exceedingly well written." — TAe American 
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A STRONG DOCUMENT 

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prSiTARKEY&pALEMJ 




AforA zw^^*: llKHALATIOH. 



In regard to Compound Oxygen, there are two things to think of : what it will do and what 
it will not do. Perhaps it would be better to consider the latter first, and reserve the cheerful 
news for the last, as gourmands at the end of a feast roll the choicest tidbits on the tongue. 

In the matter of what it will not do, it is hard to draw the line ; Compound Oxygen has 
overstepped the limits we have designated in such unusual ways, and so frequently, that we do 
not know what to say. Still, we may state that it will not accomplish miracles, although our 
patients often speak of it in words similar to those of Mr. Jernegan, — 

"Unquestionably Compound Oxygen is a marvellous remedy: Innocent looking, mysterious in its 
action, but certainly effective. " P. F. Jernhgan. 

" Brown University, Providence, R. /..March 21, 1888." 

Or the Hon, Wm. Penn Nixon, — 

"You ask my opinion of Compound Oxygen; perseveringly and continuously used, it will work 
wonders. — Chicago Inter-Ocean. " William Penn Nixon. 

" Chicago, III., April 24, 1886." 

However, we have not the space for more instances ; although, let it be understood, we 
have the instances. 

But, to return to the kernel in the nutshell, Compound Oxygen will not do harm, even 
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case do not urge us to accept. So, pausing at this, we say decidedly on this point. Compound 
Oxygen will not do harm. 

Now for the cheerful news. Compound Oxygen is potent to remove deadly diseases, — 
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" I am happy to inform you that I am of the opinion that your Compound Oxygen saved my life. 
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" It is to Compound Oxygen, under God's blessing, that I owe my life. 

" Prospect, Conn., July 2, 1888." " ^^^- <^=°- Spraguh. 

Compound Oxygen also removes catarrh. On this point we have the heartiest indorsement 
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well-known chemist; Henry McLalleu, Columbia City, Ind.; Elizabeth H. Rowan, West Point, 
N. Y.; Geo. C. Rhoderick, Jr., Middletown, Md., and hundreds of others. 

As you are aware, we publish a brochure of 200 pages, containing the full history of Cora- 
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to any one addressing Drs. Starkey & Palen, 1529 Arch St., Pbila., Pa. ; 331 Montgomery St., 
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44 



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